


Sorry, not sorry.

by Alexismobeal



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 12:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19131706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexismobeal/pseuds/Alexismobeal
Summary: Kassandra has been hired to protect King Pleistoanax of Sparta whilst in Athens for peace talks that could see an end to the Peloponnesian War.  To Kassandra's surprise, Kyra has been invited to the negotiations as a representative of Sparta's interests in the Silver Islands.After agreeing with herself that she wouldn't engage with Kyra to save her trouble (and to spare her heart), things quickly go down hill for Kassandra as it seems the new Archon of Mykonos has a plan to make her life miserable.  Plenty of angst, plenty of other stuff.2 of multiple chapters.First fic for a long time, so I hope it's on the right track.  And yes, this is named after a Demi Lovato song.  I'm not even sorry and neither is Kyra.





	1. Now I'm out here looking like revenge.

**Author's Note:**

> Do bear with me on this, I've not even completed the game (I was a bit late to the party) so undoubtedly this isn't entirely canon. 
> 
> But really fell in love with this little ship so thought I'd go for it.

_Now I'm out here looking like revenge_  
_Feelin' like a ten, the best I ever been_  
_And yeah, I know how bad it must hurt_  
_To see me like this, but it gets worse_

  
_Now you're out here looking like regret_  
_Ain't too proud to beg, second chance you'll never get_  
_And yeah, I know how bad it must hurt to see me like this_  
_But it gets worse_

 

 **Sorry, not sorry.**  

 

‘You’re representing Sparta?’ Alkibiades inquired, a small mischievous smile playing at the corner of his lips.  ‘It’s not like you to take sides, Kassandra.’ He spoke, dryly.  ‘Unless they’re paying you well, of course’ 

 

The Eagle-Bearer had been in Athens for the better part of a week, and had managed to avoid her old friend, until now.  Kassandra crossed her arms over her chest and let out a irritable sigh, she hadn’t appreciated the insinuation.  ‘I wouldn’t call it representing.’  Kassandra offered, casually dismissing the idea.  ‘I’m here to insure the safety of Sparta’s representatives.  And I’ll have you know King Pleistoanax pays very well’. She punctuated her last sentence with the subtlest of smug smiles.  If there was one thing that could always be guaranteed to bring a smile to a misthios’ face, it was a generous offer of drachmae.  

 

‘As he should, for a specimen as fine as yourself.’ Alkibiades took pause, adopting an almost thoughtful disposition. ‘That is a shame to hear however,’ he spoke, solemnly as Kassandra’s brow furrowed.  _Where is_ _he_ _going with this?_   She wondered.  ‘I was looking forward to participating in some rather _vigorous_ negotiations’.  _Ah_.  _There’s the innuendo._ Kassandra expected nothing less.  It seemed her friend was making up for lost time. 

 

‘Perhaps another time Alkibiades’. She said, with warmly.  And she meant it.  Her friend was very overtly promiscuous, but of course, he was still her friend. 

 

‘Sooner rather than later I hope’.  He said, with a grin and a raised eyebrow that could make Aphrodite blush.  But not Kassandra. Kassandra could give as good as she could get. 

 

 ‘Well, if these negotiations continue to drag, as they have done so far, we might find ourselves with some time on our hands’. 

 

‘One can but hope.’  Her friend now looked positively delighted.  

 

‘But hopefully, for the sake of the people, a truce that is acceptable to all parties can be reached in good time.   Wouldn’t you agree?’  Now it was Kassandra’s turn to raise a teasing eyebrow. 

 

‘Oh of course Kassandra.  Peace is priority’.  With the way her friend was gesticulating, she almost believed he meant it.    

 

After six long, bloody years of Peloponnesian war, Sparta and Athens had decided upon a truce, after taking huge losses on both sides.  Athens were in possession of over a hundred Spartan prisoners of war, and Sparta was in possession of Athenian land, and in turn, Athenian civilians.  Athens wanted to protect its people, Sparta its legacy.  Kill a few hundred Athenians and there’s civil unrest, kill a few hundred Spartans and you rid the city of its population, and wipe out its bloodline.   

 

The truce had been initiated by General Nicias of Athens and the Spartan King Pleistoanax, the latter being Kassandra current employer.  The Spartan delegate were visiting the Attikan capital to negotiate terms with the Athenians as initial negotiations hadn't been moving at the desired pace.  

 

‘Speaking of priorities, will you be joining us for the festivities tonight?  As an insurer of safety to our Spartan guests, you will want to insure nothing sinister makes its way into their wine, no?’ 

 

The misthios nodded, curtly.  She would be there on official duty.  Getting paid to attend a party where one could partake in a little wine wasn’t all that bad. Although things soon go south when everyone else has had a lot of wine, and you still, only a little.  ‘I expect to be there, yes’. 

 

‘Wonderful!  Sokrates will be pleased.’ 

 

Kassandra felt the involuntary eye roll before she could catch herself.  It would be wonderful to see her philosopher friend, it really would, but normally it was unwise to enter in a conversation with Sokrates at affairs such as these without at least one amphora of wine in your belly and another in your hand. ‘I will prepare myself for extensive conversation’. 

 

‘Oh and remember to wear something nice, something that shows off those arms of yours.’  Alkibiades reached out as if to touch but thought better of it.  He then settled for giving the air in front of him a good squeeze.  He leaned in a little and spoke under his breath, excitedly.  ‘Intimidate those Athenians.’   

 

Kassandra didn’t mind her friend’s attention, and she certainly knew how to take a compliment, however, she didn’t relish the idea of having to don the latest Athenian fashion for the party this evening.  Most Athenian chitons didn’t come in Spartan sizes, let alone Amazonian sizes.  And most chitons certainly didn’t come with much room for manoeuvre or protection for sharp blades if her services did end up being required.  

 

‘I will wear something comfortable.  In case I have to do more than intimidate’.  

 

A throat cleared behind Kassandra and her friend’s eyes left hers momentarily.  Realisation dawned on Alkiabiades’ face.  He’d forgotten something.  ‘I must leave you Kassandra, I can only apologise.’ 

 

‘It is no problem’.  She smiled, genuinely. 

 

‘The representatives from Thebes and Mykonos have arrived.’  Her smile faltered as her stomach dropped through the floor.   _Fuck_ .   _Kyra_ .  _Kyra could be here._  

 

‘Mykonos?’  She could barely get the word out. 

 

‘Yes, it’s a rather charming Island.  It lies next to De…’ 

 

‘I know where Mykonos is Alkiabiades.’ She said, through slightly gritted teeth. ‘I’m a misthios, not a blind priest.’  The near immediate panic that had risen in her gut at the thought of Kyra being part of the Spartan delegation had caused her patience to run thin with her friend, much quicker than she’d intended.   

 

King Pleistoanax hadn’t mentioned to Kassandra that the leadership from the smaller Islands were going to be in attendance.  It was to only be the prominent Islands and the mainland territories making the trip to Athens.  If she’d known there was a chance of Kyra being there, would she have accepted the job? 

 

‘Well you asked’.  He shrugged, nonchalantly, oblivious to his friend’s rather obvious distress.  That or he chose to ignore it. ‘I’m surprised King Pleistoanax didn’t tell you.  I’m assuming you’ll be offering these other dignitaries your protection also.’  _By the Gods I hope not._ _This is typical_ _Pleistoanax_ _._   ‘How many people have you been hired to protect Kassandra?’  Alkiabiades was having far too much fun now, just as Kassandra’s mood was worsening.   

 

‘We hadn’t exactly come to an agreement, but 7 have been mentioned so far.  How many Spartan dignitaries are coming?’. 

 

’12.  Oh my poor dear.’  He said, gleefully.  He was taking far too much pleasure in her very immediate predicament.  

 

‘Malaka.’  She practically growled.  The pay, that had initially looked like a rather handsome sum, was quickly feeling a little light in her coin purse.  She’d received part payment upfront and would receive full payment upon the safe return of the delegates.  Kassandra made a mental note to ask the King from a more substantial second instalment when the time was right. 

 

5 more delegates and now maybe Kyra.  Kyra, in the same city as her once again. 

 

Kassandra hadn’t seen Kyra for the best part of three years, but that hadn’t stopped the Misthios from seeing the rebel leader every moment she closed her eyes.  Her raven hair that whispered across her shoulders, her furiously dark and yet vibrant eyes.  Her lips that were the flavour of honey and sea salt.  Kassandra would never let herself forget the taste.  A necessity really, as she knew she’d never taste them again.   

 

But then again, neither would Thaletas.  Fair was fair she supposed.  However cruel it might have been. 

 

The last time she’d spoken with Kyra, the other woman had demanded she leave Mykonos and never return.  Kassandra had agreed, and had left early the next morning on the Adrestia.  Her heart had been broken that day, although she would never admit it, and she was still finding the pieces to slowly put it back together.  Some pieces were probably gone for good though, and Kassandra was beginning to come to terms with that.   

 

Seeing Kyra again though could change all that, seismically. It’s easy to manage, someone not being in your life when they’re not in your life.  It’s easy to push aside all the things you should have said. All the explanations of what, why and how.  How you would have done things differently if only the situation had been a certain way and not the way it was.  But when they’re in your life, but they can’t be your entire life, that’s when things become unmanageable.  That’s when you try and change things that can’t be changed and apologise for things that simply can’t be fixed with an, _‘I’m sorry’._  

 

But maybe it wasn’t Kyra, Kassandra thought.  Maybe her life wouldn’t be turned upside down.  Maybe she’d be able to retain her stiff upper lip and keep her shit together, get her head down and do her job.  The Archon of Mykonos could be anyone, absolutely anyone.  Apart from Praxos, it probably wasn’t Praxos. 

 

‘I must leave you Kassandra.’ Alkibiades waved casually, unaware of the cloud that had descended upon his friend’s thoughts.  He grinned once more.  ‘Besides, I’ve heard the representative from Mykonos is quite… delectable.’  By the gods, it was Kyra.  ‘I wouldn’t want to keep her waiting.’  

 

Alkibiades left swiftly as his entourage fell in quickly behind him.  As soon as they were out of sight Kassandra let out a ragged breath that she felt as if she’d been holding since Alkibiades had uttered the word _Mykonos_. Finding a chair, she quickly collapsed into it. 

 

Kassandra was a confident lover, there was no question of that.  It was just something she was good at, she was physically gifted and she liked to fuck.  She’d fucked people before Kyra, and she’d fucked people after her.  But she hadn’t loved, before or after. 

 

She’d spent 20 years building and rebuilding her hard exterior.  Her country had rejected her, her people had rejected her, her father had rejected her.  So Kassandra didn’t love.  She’d even kept Phoebie at a distance, and Phoebie loved her unconditionally.   

 

But not Kyra.  Kyra could not be kept at arms length.  Kassandra was drawn to Kyra like no one else.  The rebel leader had managed to crawl under her skin and stay there.  They were the same, yet so different.  Familiar and comforting yet totally unknown and exhilarating.  They’d both lost everything, and then both managed to rebuild their lives, stone by stone.   

 

They’d both lost everything again the night though, when Kassandra had killed Thaletas.  He’d left her no choice, and Kassandra would have surely died if she’d tried to lay down her sword but Kyra hadn’t seen it that way.  Why would she? 

 

After leaving Mykonos, and being a person of little material desire, Kassandra simply went back to fighting and not feeling.  An easy fix, especially when you can remedy any emotional slip with wine and a hetaerae at a minute’s notice. 

 

She now had a few hours before the party to convince herself that however many times she might try and say sorry to Kyra, it would do no good.  Said once, or a thousands times, an apology couldn’t return a man from the dead, so the best course of action was to say nothing at all.  Then Kyra could go home, back to the Silver Islands and Kassandra could carry on not feeling anything. 

 

The mighty Eagle-Bearer groaned as she shifted deeper into the chair, her hands now firmly affixed to her temples, massaging away the tension that was beginning to build ther.  She sighed, audibly.  This had just gone from an easy job to an absolute no within the space of a few minutes.  ‘Malaka’. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Kassandra wasn’t nearly drunk enough for this.  Not for any of this.  She sighed as yet another servant with several amphoras of wine passed her by.  If only she could reach out and touch. Instead she settled for massaging the bridge of her nose irritably whilst her philosophiser friend philosophised exuberantly to a wide eyed and attentive audience.  This was obviously very much a privilege for them, as it should be, she supposed.  Hewas the great Sokrates, after all.  But after knowing the man for over three years, and having grown tired of his vacillations shortly after their very first meeting, Kassandra was quick to lose patience. 

 

‘But if a Nation escalates a war by intervening, to protect the people of another nation, should they hold any responsibility in part for the lives lost?  Or the devastation caused? Or does all responsibility lie with the aggressor?’  

 

She exhaled audibly and very much in earshot of Sokrates.  He chose to ignore her, as always, and continued his line of questioning. _So many questions, so few answers._ ‘One could argue that if they hadn’t intervened, the total lives lost could have been less.  Is the value of a life taken aggressively higher than the value of a life taken in defence?’ 

 

 _Please, stop._ ‘A life’s a life, Sokrates,’ the Misthios huffed.  

 

Her friend’s eyes lit up.  He had provoked a response from the one person in the group he cared most about provoking.  _What have I done?_   He spun quickly on his heel, eyes now dancing.  ‘So, you wouldn’t be more justified in taking a life in self-defence, than you would be as an aggressor?’ 

 

‘No, of course not. That is not what I meant’.   

 

It delighted Sokrates.  ‘But it is what you say.’ He said, with a smile.   

 

‘And what you say is simply designed to turn me around is circles.’ Kassandra’s knuckles cracked as she clenched her fists by her sides.  Frustration was getting the better of her and she needed to reign it in. 

 

‘It is designed, my dear Kassandra, to make you think’. 

 

The misthios inhaled sharply, with her tongue ready to unleash a series of obscenities and expletives at the Philosopher.  But she caught herself, pursed her lips, and huffed loudly out of her nose.  _Breathe_. ‘I should be keeping an eye on the party.’ 

 

Her friend simply smiled and tipped his drink in her direction.  ‘That is something we can both agree on.’ 

 

She gave Sokrates a curt nod and half smile before stepping away from the group and back into the shadows.  They had been debating in the courtyard of a royal Athenian villa which was playing host to their celebrations that evening.  Blossoms trailed the Korinthian columns that supported the second story above them, the pink flowers contrasting with the rich Attikan blue paint that adorned the walls and pillars.  

 

The sun had just about fallen, and with it being so low in the sky, the outdoor space was lit with braziers.  The flames danced across the hot coals, casting shadows that flickered and flit across the walls. If Kassandra sunk deep enough into the recesses of the courtyard, ensuring her view wasn’t blocked by a flower adorned column, she could view the entire gathering whilst being nearly invisible in the dying light of the day.   

 

She counted 10 Spartan representatives, plus their companions, friend or otherwise, and the rest of the Athenian entourage.  She couldn’t spot Pleistoanax, but she’d been instructed to let him be. He couldn’t forge allegiances with a misthios on his shoulder.  He needed to appear transparent, trusting and non -intimidating.  Apparently, she had an intimidating air.  Who knew?  Her role at the party was to ensure things didn’t get out of hand, and of course, to watch the wine.   

 

Other than Pleistoanax, the only other missing member of the Spartan delegation was Kyra.  The likelihood was that the Spartan King had met Kyra and made the decision on the spot to claim her as his wife.  And Kassandra wouldn’t blade him.  If she was a Spartan King and met Kyra for the first time, she’d probably do the same.  It seemed like quite a rational decision when faced with the beauty of Kyra.  She could be quite... overwhelming. 

 

Hopefully Kassandra could avoid Kyra all night, speed up the negotiation process with a few drachmae in the right pockets, and send the Archon packing before you could say _I killed the man you loved… in self_ _-_ _defence_.   

 

What would Kassandra say to Kyra, how would she feel? Surely at some point she would have to address her or at least acknowledge her existence.  And did Kyra know Kassandra was in Athens? Only a handful of people knew about their brief affair on Mykonos, but it seemed that half of the Greek world knew about Kassandra’s role in the liberation of the Silver Islands from the Athenians. Someone must have made the mistake of mentioning the possibility of a happy reunion by now. 

 

Kassandra had already decided on her course of action for when they did inevitably reunite.  No grovelling, no explanations.  They would do no good.  It was just business.  If at some point she had to protect Kyra she would, in an instant.  But only because she was being paid too.  Not because she loved her.  Not at all. 

 

‘Kassandra!’  A booming voice pulled her away from her spiralling thoughts.  It was her employer. 

 

‘King Pleistoanax,’ she gave a small bow of the head.  He’d appeared from a small hallway that played host to a set of stairs which led to the roof.  He must have been taking in the sunset across the bay.  The colours had been very impressive that evening, from what Kassandra had been able to see from the Courtyard.  The sky was painted Spartan red, something the King would see as a good omen for the negotiations tomorrow. 

 

She appeared from behind him, out of the shadows.  Her hand in his.  If Kassandra had been wondering how she’d feel when she saw the rebel leader next, she needn’t wonder any longer.  It was if she’d been kicked firmly in the gut.  Her breath was caught in her chest and the blood rushed to her head.  She needed to tear her eyes away from the woman but she couldn’t bring herself to do so.  All she could do was try and swallow away the dryness that was building in her mouth.   

 

‘You must meet the Archon on Mykonos, this is Kyra’.  Her heart pounded in her chest.  Fire light flickered across Kyra’s features and danced wildly in her dark eyes.  Kassandra searched those eyes, desperately trying to determine whether the Archon was feeling anywhere near the same to her, but Kyra’s eyes remained unreadable. 

 

 _Speak Kassandra, function!_ ‘Archon’, she choked out an acknowledgment.  _Better than nothing._  

 

‘Am I the fool here, or have you both already made a previous acquaintance?’  King Pleistoanax must have been in the half of the Greek world that didn’t know about Kassandra’s time on Mykonos.  

 

‘You are certainly not the fool, my King, in fact you are most insightful.’ Her voice, it had been three years since Kassandra had heard that voice.  Rich, full, and deeper than her own.  It made her stomach turn in on itself.  She wasn’t doing a great job of not caring. 

 

‘The misthios and I _are_ acquainted.  She aided us in the liberation of Mykonos.’  Kyra had a smile  

 

‘Of course!’ Pleistoanax said, exuberantly, as if the memories were flooding back to him.  It was then Kassandra realised that the king was already very drunk.  His wine sloshed from the rim of his amphora and splattered across the white marble floor as he proclaimed ‘Another great victory for Sparta!’ 

 

‘Yes, your eminence.  A glorious day’.  A humouring smile played across Kyra’s features, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, eyes that were now firmly affixed on Kassandra’s.  _Athena give me strength_ … _and aid me in my retreat._  

 

Kassandra tore her eyes from Kyra’s and addressed Pleistoanax.  She needed to extract herself from this conversation, and quickly.  ‘If you would excuse me your grace, I would like to keep an eye on the room’. 

 

‘You may, Eagle-Bearer.  Your diligence does not go unnoticed.’  Did he wink at her? No matter.  The misthios gave him the smallest of bows and then turned to Kyra. 

 

The other woman raised one eyebrow.  An eyebrow that said, _you’re running away_ _?_ It was a challenge, a challenge that Kassandra wasn’t nearly ready to accept.  She was running, as far the interior walls of the villa would let her.  She hadn’t survived this long by taking on battles she knew she couldn’t win. 

 

 With a dipped head and a muffled, ‘Archon’, the misthios was gone. 

 

* * *

 

 

The night was dark now, and the partygoers could only be seen by the light of the flames flickering in the braziers. Kassandra crossed her arms and leant against one of the many pillars in the courtyard.  Inexplicably, her brow was even more furrowed than it had been at the beginning of the night.  Kyra was here, Kyra was beautiful and Kyra was angry. And to top it all off, King Pleistoanax had his hands all over her.  

 

The misthios watched as the Archon floated from group to group.  All would stop to take in her beauty.  She knew when to laugh politely at their jokes, knew when to smile warmly and humbly at their generous compliments and knew how to reciprocate, with soft touches and half glances.   

 

Kyra was so attuned to the room.  Its wants and desires, and they all desired her.  People often said Kassandra was born of the Gods, but Kyra, Kyra was truly divine. It was as if Artemis herself was roaming the villa.  She was the hunter here, Kassandra was sure of that.  Even surer when Kyra glanced her way, and their eyes met.  Was it hunger Kassandra saw there?  The Archon’s gaze lingered for a moment but then seemed to move quickly on to study the darkened entrance to the kitchen behind where Kassandra was standing. 

 

‘Do you think she’s looking at you or looking at me?’  Alkibiades asked.  He was leant against the pillar adjacent to hers.  Turned out, he’d also had enough of Sokrates’ incessant lines of questioning.  His words, not hers.   

 

Kassandra blinked.  ‘What?’ 

 

‘I think she’s looking at me’.  He said, smugly.  If Kassandra didn’t know better, she’d think her friend was trying to prod her. He wanted information from her, that was clear.  He wasn’t going to get any. 

 

She simply shrugged. ‘I’m sure your deduction is correct’. 

 

‘Oh, maybe she’s looking at the both of us.  That would be interesting.’   

 

‘I doubt that’.   

 

‘Really?  And how have you deduced that? Do you have intimate knowledge of her inner-mos…’ 

 

‘I know she isn’t looking at me’.  Kassandra cut across him.  She’d had enough of this conversation and it was going to end, now.  ‘She’s looking behind us.  That’s Praxos in the kitchen sniffing the wine.  He’s her companion tonight’. 

 

‘Scandalous, the Archon and that brute?’ 

 

‘He protects her, he cares for her like a sister.  They’re not fucking’.  _They better not be fucking._  

 

Alkibiades shifted from his pillar to hers, their shoulders were touching now and she could feel the warmth of his skin on hers.  _Since when_ _had it gotten cold?_   He leaned into Kassandra conspiratorially and spoke gently into her ear.  ‘You know a lot about the Archon of Mykonos, Kassandra.  Would you care to tell me how?’ 

 

Kassandra sighed, sad that it had had to come to this.  He’d gone too far and now there was only one thing for it. ‘More wine Alkibiades?’  She would have to get him blind drunk. 

 

* * *

 

 

The moon was high in the sky now and the birds that greeted the sun were yet to begin their morning ritual. All of the Spartan delegation had either been escorted back to their residences by their accompanying troop of soldiers or were staying at the villa overnight.  

 

King Pleistoanax was passed out in a guestroom with Spartan guards posted on his doorway and outside his window, which meant Kassandra could retire for the evening.  Far earlier than she had expected in all honesty, and she was thankful. She had been granted the room opposite the King’s out of convenience, as her duties would be reinstated come the morning. 

 

She nudged the door open and closed it again once she was inside, locking it with the key she’d been granted from the house keeper.  She slumped against the door, head against the rough wood and sighed as the tension began to escape her body.  She’d survived.  She’d survived Sokrates’ philosophising and Alkibiades’ inquisition.  Her client had survived also.  Well, as long as the drink hadn’t killed him.  And of course, she’d survived Kyra. 

 

‘Take your clothes off.’  She’d spoken too soon.  She almost reached for the small dagger strapped to her thigh as she turned on the intruder, but she’d known the voice and it had almost stopped her heart dead.  When her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, they confirmed for her what her ears had suspected.  Perched delicately on Kassandra’s bed, was Kyra.   

 

‘Wh..wha..?’  Kassandra could only stammer a response.  She was here.  

 

The room was lit with a solitary candle that the Kyra must have brought with her and placed beside Kassandra’s bed once she’d entered.  The candle light had turned Kyra’s inviting bronzed skin golden and the flames danced across Kyra’s dark eyes which, if it were possible, were even darker than they had been earlier in the evening.  Dark with lust?  Maybe it had been hunger Kassandra had seen in them before. The misthios hadn’t thought it possible but here she was, demanding the she remove her clothes.   

 

‘I said, take your close off.  I won’t ask again’.  Kyra was abrupt, and cold, despite her request being such an intimate one. 

 

‘Kyra…’, Kassandra appealed.  She was at a loss.  Normally if a beautiful woman had snuck into her room and demanded upon entry that Kassandra remove her clothes, she’d have already been down to her boots by now, but this was no normal woman.  This was a woman who hated her guts, and who still held a piece of her heart.   

 

‘Do not speak my name.’ Kyra’s voice waivered, she was angry.  Kassandra could feel it radiating off of her. She was practically vibrating with an energy that must have been building since they'd first laid eyes on each other earlier that evening.  Now Kyra had Kassandra in private, she could afford to have her true feelings on show.  And those feelings were strong.  ‘I do not want you to speak one word to me.  Do you understand?’   

 

‘No, I don’t... I…’  

 

‘Do you think you deserve to speak to me?’  Kyra stood from the bed, defiantly, visibly quivering now.  Her voice was raised to a furious whisper.  Kassandra became uncomfortably aware her room shared walls either side with other members of the Spartan delegation.  This needed to end, now. 

 

‘You’re an Archon, not Artemis herself. An Archon who invited herself into _my_ room by the way, if you could be so kind as to invite yourself out’.  Kassandra gestured to the door with a grimace.  

 

Kassandra seemed to only blink, and Kyra had quickly closed the distance between them.  She was so close, she could smell her now.  Honey and sea water. ‘And you’re a blade for hire, nothing more.’  It was spoken with such disdain, Kassandra actually believed she meant it.  She supposed it was the truth.  The Rebel leader had paid her and The Eagle Bearer had killed for her.  She could feel Kyra’s hot breath tickle the soft skin of her neck, causing a deep heat to stir in the pit of her stomach. 

 

Being this close to Kyra was torture.  A torture she didn’t deserve.  ‘Why are you here Kyra? You told me to stay away from you, and I have.’  She had all night.  She had for three fucking years.  Yet here Kyra was, in her room, speaking ill of her.  Kassandra was nearly shaking with anger herself.  Part of her needed to grab Kyra and drag her out of her room and out of her life, forever.  But part of her need to grab her and drag her to her bed. 

 

Kyra took a fist of Kassandra’s chiton in her hands and drew the misthios towards her. Her eyes were like pools of molten obsidian.  Filled with hurt, pain, desire.  One slip, and Kassandra would tumble in and never be able to come up for breath.  ‘I told you,’ Kyra whispered hotly, ‘I don’t want you to speak my name.  I just want you to fuck me’. 

 

‘Wh-…’ Lips crashed against Kassandra’s.  Hungry teeth captured her bottom lip whilst a hot tongue caressed it.  But Kyra wasn’t asking for permission.  She dove into Kassandra’s mouth with abandon, as the misthios felt an insuppressible moan of pleasure escape her.  Kyra now had two fists tightly balled into the material of Kassandra’s evening attire, and had begun dragging her towards the neatly made bed.  

 

Kassandra’s head was spinning.  She didn’t know where to put her hands.  Was this happening?  Was she allowed to touch?  She hadn’t earned this, it must have been a trick.  Two smaller hands clapped round hers and pulled them down, causing her to have to dip awkwardly.   

 

Suddenly her hands were wrapped around Kyra’s slighter form, her strong fingers kneading the firm flesh of Kyra’s backside.  Kassandra had slipped.  She was falling.  And in a moment, she’d be crashing into that pool of molten obsidian.  But it was okay.  Kassandra didn't need oxygen, she just needed Kyra.  Now. 

 

The Archon’s hands went back to work, snaking up Kassandra’s arms and gripping the defined muscle there, almost painfully, as her nails began to make small marks in the misthios’ skin.  Every touch felt like fire and every forceful flick of Kyra’s tongue against her own sent that fire straight to her core.   

 

Kassandra had lost control and it was only at that point that she realised, that was exactly what Kyra wanted.  She didn’t need permission.  Kyra certainly hadn’t asked for it.  She hadn’t been invited into Kassandra’s room, hadn’t been invited onto her lips and into her bed.  But now, once more with a fist full of Kassandra’s chiton, Kyra was pulling her down, down onto the sheep skin throws that adorned her bed. 

 

‘This...‘ Kyra tugged on the material between her fingers and spoke through rough kisses, ‘This needs to come off.’  And within moments the chiton was gone.  Fevered eyes surveyed Kassandra’s lean body.  Her broad shoulders, her muscular thighs.  Kyra couldn’t help but bite her bottom lip as she dragged her finger nails down Kassandra’s defined stomach and across the familiar v shape that lay between her hips.   

 

Kassandra was now in-between Kyra’s soft thighs, a place she never thought she’d return to.  A place she’d go back to every night when she slept alone, and often when she didn’t.  Whenever she’d closed her eyes she’d hear the words, ‘ _Kassandra, I need you’._   She hadn’t heard those words tonight, but it didn’t stop her from playing out her fantasy, exactly how she’d imagined it.  

 

The misthios attacked Kyra’s neck, roughly at first, with hot and hard kisses.  She bit the soft skin there and was pleased when she felt delicate fingers weave through her hair and then make fits, pulling and teasing the roots, and holding her mouth to the most sensitive areas of skin.   

 

Her desperate mouth took her lower, as her skilled hands parted Kyra’s chiton and took to running themselves up and down the slighter woman’s silky soft sides.  Kassandra’s mouth capture one hardened nipple in between her lips.  She swirled her tongue around it, getting lost in the way Kyra’s breast felt in her mouth.  Her other hand went to the unattended mound and began to knead the flesh there as she gently bit down upon the raised, sensitive skin beneath her teeth. 

 

Once Kyra had been liberated of her chiton, Kassandra kissed, licked and tasted every inch of skin she could get purchase on.  Kyra began to whimper beneath her, her hips bucking into Kassandra’s whenever the misthios took her skin between her teeth, or sucked too hard on a sensitive piece of flesh.  She knew Kyra was begging for friction, and it was time Kassandra gave the her what she wanted.  After all, she’d asked so nicely... 

 

In an instant Kassandra was kissing and nipping at the soft flesh of Kyra’s inner thighs. She took pause for a moment, wanting to savour the moment.  Breathing deeply, she could practically taste Kyra’s slickness, even before she sunk her tongue into her wet folds. She was through teasing.   

 

Her tongue swirled erratically over Kyra’s entrance, and across her swollen clit.  She could feel Kyra’s arousal, slick on her cheeks and chin but she wanted to be deeper.  Her tongue probed inside, which, much to Kassandra’s delight, elicited another groan from the woman beneath her. Kyra’s hips began to buck involuntarily but Kassandra’s strong grip held them firmly in place so she could continue to work her increasingly swollen pussy.   

 

The taste was intoxicating but Kassandra needed to feel Kyra too and soon enough she was inside of her, with one finger at first.  Kyra was gasping now and clinging to Kassandra, one hand clutching at her hair and the other gripping her strong forearm, all thoughts of the Spartan delegates next door well and truly forgotten.   

 

Kassandra couldn’t help but steal a look at Kyra when she slid a second finger inside of her.  Her body was glistening with sweat and her breasts swayed gently at every buck of her hips. _By the gods she’s beautiful._ Kyra’s eyes were clenched shut now, her mouth open and gasping inaudibly for breath. She was close. Kassandra focussed on finding a rhythm with her tongue now, as she curled her fingers against the inner wall of Kyra’s pussy and fucked her hard and fast. 

 

She felt the muscles around her fingers begin to tighten as the hands gripping her began to shake with a tension that desperately needed releasing.  Her tongue strokes became a frenzy of desperate ministrations as Kyra’s hips bucked forcefully, causing Kassandra to relinquish her grip and grab Kyra’s backside with her left hand instead, allowing her to bury her face even deeper. 

 

Kyra’s heels dug into the small of Kassandra’s back, her calves and thighs tensing and straining and for a moment there was absolute stillness and silence in Kyra.  It was the moment just after you step off the cliff, just before you start falling.  And then she fell.  Gasping and grasping at Kassandra, desperately grinding against her face so she could ride her orgasm to absolute pleasure. Not that Kassandra minded. 

 

Once Kyra’s breathing had begun to return to normal, and her grip on Kassandra had loosened, the misthios slipped her fingers out from inside Kyra and gently this time, peppered kisses across her thighs and stomach, until she came to settle down next to her.   

 

Kyra’s eyes were still closed, tightly, whilst the echoes of her orgasm still played like butterflies in her stomach.  She was so beautiful.  To be able to kiss her, touch her, taste her again.  It wasn’t something she had even thought possible, just hours before. Kyra was her nectar of the gods, and Kassandra had been able to drink her fill. 

 

The Archon seemed to sigh contentedly, as her eyes fluttered open to meet Kassandra’s.  The misthios couldn’t help but smile, a small smug smile.  She knew she’d outdone herself.  

 

She went to kiss Kyra again. She wanted Kyra to taste herself on her lips.  But Kyra turned away, suddenly, and instead Kassandra had to settle for pressing her lips gently upon Kyra’s neck, which was now glistening with sweat.  The misthios frowned.  Something wasn’t right. 

 

Within a moment, before Kassandra could wrap her arms around her and draw her into her embrace, Kyra had sprung from the bed.  The chiton that lay open a moment before was now being hastily wrapped and tied, back around Kyra’s body.    

 

‘Everything alright?’ Kassandra was puzzled, Kyra always got as much from giving as she did receiving.  When she didn’t receive an answer, Kassandra inquired again.  ‘Where are you going?’ 

 

‘To where I’m staying,’ Kyra said, matter-of-factly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, as if they hadn't just had mind-blowing sex.  Kassandra was surprised the Archon was even standing.  ‘Praxos is waiting for me outside’.  

 

‘You can’t just…’ The misthios attempted. 

 

‘Can I not?’ Kyra’s eyes were dark and dangerous again, just like they had been in the courtyard earlier that evening.  Had this been her plan from the beginning? A creeping dread in Kassandra’s gut was starting to spread.  It had been a play, a trap.  A trap that the mighty Eagle Bearer had fallen straight into.  Knowing Kyra, she’d probably made a generous sacrifice to Artemis for a successful hunt, and the goddess had delivered. 

 

Kyra picked up the candle that still sat beside the bed and extinguished it with one swift puff from her sex flushed cheeks.  The room was now in complete darkness.  ‘You’ll find your payment next to the bed misthios.’  And with that, Kassandra’s world came crashing down. Again. 

  


	2. And it'd be nice of me to take it easy on ya, but nah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written and re-written several times as it got far too fun at times. This angst needs to be dragged out a little longer, however tempting it is to write these two together and having fun.
> 
> Hope you like it.

If Kassandra were to tell you she’d had a restful night’s sleep, she’d be lying.  Not only did she have a huge amount of unspent sexual frustration coursing through her body, but she knew she couldn’t get rid of it.  Every time she closed her eyes, she saw dark dangerous eyes staring back.  Kyra’s desperate moans still rang in her ears, the taste of honey and sea water still hung on her lips.  And every time she thought about it, she felt anger.  No, worse than that, she felt shame.

 

Pleistoanax would be rising soon, so she needed to be dressed and ready to escort the King to the day’s negotiations.  ‘Malaka,’ she groaned, as she hauled her dissatisfied, naked body out of bed.  The sheets were still wet with sweat and sex. She was glad to be rid of them. 

 

Kassandra felt disgusting. Sweat still clung to her body. The temperature during the night hadn’t been forgiving, and she would be thankful for when she could return to her own small accommodation and bathe. At least she was sure no one else staying in the villa would have been sober enough to have already risen, bathed and changed for this morning’s meetings with the Athenians.  So, they would all be a little rough around the edges. Maybe that was the Athenian’s plan after all.

 

Pulling at the leather fastenings, Kassandra secured her Spartan armour in place.  She’d had a runner deliver the plated pieces to her room the night before, where they’d been sat, glistening and flickering in the light from Kyra’s candle, until that light had been extinguished. 

 

Breastplate, boots, belt, bracers.  Check. She had decided against the helmet, as a hood would suffice.  Besides, she wasn’t going into battle, and she needed to be alert, not blinkered.

 

Kassandra left the room, one which she hoped she’d never have to come back to and trudged her way to the stables to find Phobos.  She exited through the courtyard which still held the evidence of the previous night’s festivities.  Grabbing a leftover apple from a plate of fruit, she slipped through the corridors until she found him.  Her trusted friend was curled up, as much a horse could curl up, next to the water trough. Hearing her footsteps, he looked up and with excitement, awkwardly clambered to his feet and came to her, dipping his head and butting his nose into her shoulder. 

 

‘Good boy, Phobos.’ Kassandra ran her hand down the short, smooth hair of his neck, and sighed as she rested her head against his.  She stayed there for a moment, taking refuge in the stillness her friend afforded her. The moment was broken when Phobos’ nostrils sniffed out the apple she had been concealing behind her back and in an instant, he was clumsily trying to snap at it, nearly taking Kassandra’s fingers off.  The misthios couldn’t help but laugh.  ‘Ela, ela, calm down.  Here you go, you big oaf,’ she grinned as she offered up the apple which he accepted enthusiastically.

 

After making sure Phobos had taken on enough water and hay, Kassandra used the time spent waiting for the King to brush the horse down and shake out the saddle and blanket that lay underneath. When Pleistoanax finally emerged, she’d thread plats into the Phobos’ fringe and mane.  He hadn’t been a willing participant, but Kassandra had ignored her horses complaints, needing something to keep her hands busy and her mind away from the events of the night before.

 

Kassandra escorted the young King of Sparta through the streets of Athens to the Lawcourts in the Agora.  This was where the negotiations would be taking place, as it was one of the more private buildings in Athens.  Of course, it was handily placed in one of the most public areas of Athens, so Kassandra knew she had to be on guard.  

 

The contingent of Spartan Soldiers, however inconspicuously they’d attempted to dress, couldn’t help but draw attention to the group.  If anything, the misthios would have preferred to leave them at the Villa.  With the amount of attention they were drawing, they had the potential to do more harm than good, but she couldn’t risk being proved wrong if there was an altercation.

 

Thankfully, the King’s contingent managed to arrive at the Lawcourts unscathed, apart from being wounded by a few pointed looks from passers-by.  The Athenian people were as keen on peace as the Spartan’s were, and most of them were thankful for Pleistoanax’s efforts to come to a truce, but they also held him responsible for the deaths of their fathers, brothers and sons.  Although Kassandra was more relieved that she had managed to avoid Kyra on their route from the north west of the city to central Athens.  It was custom for the Kings or ruling parties to arrive last at diplomatic events, so Kassandra had been fairly confident of avoiding the Archon. But these kinds of things could never be guaranteed.

 

Once the King was inside, Kassandra was now stuck with the task of finding some way of entertaining herself for several hours.  Being the hired muscle, Kassandra wasn’t privy to conversations that were taking place behind the closed doors of the courts, but she was sure she’d hear all about it as soon as the wine began to flow at the next party.  Pleistoanax had already approached Kassandra for counsel several times since they’d left Sparta, before any wine had a chance to loosen his lips, so she was sure she wouldn’t have to wait long to be brought up to speed.

 

Guards were posted on every set of doors leading into the Law Court building, as well as on the doors leading into the negotiation chamber itself, so Kassandra was a little at a loss of how she could be useful.  She needed to keep busy otherwise her mind would quickly stray into a realm of unwelcome thoughts and urges.  And staying as far away from Kyra as possible was also high up on her agenda.

 

Kyra had treated her like whore.  Was that really her opinion of Kassandra now, was that really how little she thought of her?  Kassandra knew Kyra had been trying to hurt her, that had been clear.  She had been so calculated, so purposeful.  So what did it mean?  At least, Kassandra supposed, it meant Kyra wasn’t entirely indifferent to her. She could take that as a positive.

 

Kassandra’s feet took her through the Agora, weaving her in and out of the stalls there.  The sights, sounds and smells of the market did their best to distract the misthios from her thoughts.  The smell of fresh fruits, grilled fish and flowers hit Kassandra as she entered the stoa to her left. It was just coming up to lunch time and it seemed the food vendors there were preparing to feed the whole of Athens. Taking in the many fruits one grocer had on offer, Kassandra decided to pick up some more apples for Phobos, and some peaches for herself.  There was nothing more satisfying for thirst quenching than a peach picked in season.

 

Kassandra almost let herself be tempted by some crisp marides but settled for her peach.  She knew Alkibiades would feed her generously later, and why pay the high prices in the centre of Athens when you can eat like a king for free later?  The poppies were in full bloom at the flower stall, and their scent was heavy in the air, causing Kassandra’s nose to tickle. They were blood red and stood tall.  But roses, the roses were pink, and reminded her of Kyra.  So, the misthios quickly moved on.

 

 ‘Good afternoon, Kassandra.’ The misthios practically jumped out of her skin, so much for not getting too lost in her thoughts. The clumsiest of assassins could have plunged a dagger in her back in that moment and she would have been none the wiser.  ‘You’re not looking quite as worse for wear as your compatriots.’  It was Sokrates, _fantastic_.  If it wasn’t women turning her brain in circles, it was this man.

 

‘I’m a professional, Sokrates.  Would you expect anything less?’

 

He grinned, throwing his arms open.  ‘From you? Of course not.’

 

‘You flatter me.’ Kassandra turned to continue her walk of the Agora and Sokrates fell in step beside her.

 

‘The King… on the other hand, is looking a little rough around the edges,’ he spoke, more quietly.

 

‘An Athenian tactic perhaps?’ She gave her friend a light elbow in the ribs.  ‘Ply us with alcohol to make us more… agreeable the next day, no?’

 

‘As the King’s misthios…’

 

‘Personal protector.’ Kassandra interjected, proudly.

 

‘… I would have thought that perhaps you’d try to steer your King towards sobriety?’

 

Kassandra scoffed. She was in no way responsible for how the King of Sparta conducted himself.  If he wanted to drink, he should drink.  ‘I protect him from other people, Sokrates, not himself.  Besides, he seemed to be enjoying the party.’

 

‘Yes, I did notice he seemed in very good company’.  Kassandra cringed, inwardly.  The King seemed quite taken with Kyra, but the Archon of Mykonos had ended up in the misthios’ bed.  Not something she wanted publicised.  That kind of thing could end badly for her.  _Remember the last time you stole Kyra out from someone’s nose?_ But this was different, Kassandra didn’t want Kyra. Or did she?  She certainly wanted her, physically.  Kyra was the most magnetic woman she had ever met.  She’s wanted her the first time she’d ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on her.  She’d have her now if she could.  She’d drown in Kyra and say thank you for the pleasure of doing so.

 

But did she want her? Emotionally.  Kassandra was beginning to become more fearful of the answer to that question as the minutes passed.  Since Kassandra had left Mykonos there wasn’t a day that went by where she didn’t think of Kyra, that was the truth.  But however may times she dreamt it, she’d always thought she’d probably never see the woman again.    But she’d been wrong.  And since laying eyes on her the night before, she’d felt something creep into the pit of her stomach.  A feeling that terrified her.  It was hope. Even after everything that had happened that night, Kassandra had been given the smallest, most minuscule slither of hope, and that slither had the potential to tear her apart.

 

‘Kassandra.’  She’d been frowning, she realised.

 

‘Sorry.  Yes’.

 

Sokrates brought them to a halt besides a deserted part of the stoa and lowered his voice, so it was just above a whisper.  The jovial look that normally adorned his face was gone, and now his features were etched with concern.  ‘You’d be wise not to let certain feelings you may have get in the way of you doing what you’ve been hired to do.  Despite appearances, peace is not on the agenda of all parties here, and despite his short comings, King Pleistoanax is a good man.  A young man but a good man, and he is the only person who can get enough signatures from your Spartan brothers for a truce to be agreed.  Protect him Kassandra.  Thousands of lives depend on this peace’. 

 

Kassandra didn’t know what to say.  She’d taken the job for the drachmae, not for some kind of greater good or higher meaning. She done enough fighting for the greater good to last a life time.  Suddenly this job was sounding far less routine than Kassandra had once thought. But it was her job, and she’d taken it, and if doing her job meant protecting the futures of every Greek citizen, then so be it.  ‘He will be safe Sokrates.  Rest assured’.

 

Sokrates quickly glanced over his shoulder to ensure they hadn’t been followed into the stoa. ‘Good, good.’  His brow furrowed a little more.  ‘Does he know about his Pater?’

 

‘Yes, I think he knows his father betrayed the Spartan people.  Kind of hard to miss that one’.

 

‘Kassandra’.  Sokrates chided, rolling his eyes to show his exasperation.

 

King Pleistoanax father was Pausanius, the cultist.  Everyone in Greece now knew that in some shape or form.  Some said he colluded with the Persians, some say the Athenians, only a few knew the truth.  But even fewer knew about Pausanius’ fate, and the current King of Sparta was not one of those people, and Kassandra hoped, never would be. 

 

Kassandra shook her head. ‘No, he doesn’t know.  And it will remain that way otherwise my head may not remain attached to my body.’

 

Sokrates looked slightly relieved.  ‘Good. Does the girl know?’ 

 

He could have only been asking about Kyra.  Sokrates knew they had been close during her time on Mykonos and perhaps he thought they had been close since.  ‘No. She knows about the cult but, that’s as far as it goes’.

 

‘You’re more discrete than I give you credit for’, he said, with a twinkle in his eye.

 

‘I am nothing if not discrete,’ Kassandra boasted, a small ironic smile pulling at the corner of her lips.

 

‘The corpses you leave littered across Greece might beg to differ if they weren’t with Hades’.

 

Kassandra through her head back as a hearty laugh escaped her. ‘You’re not even asking me any obtuse questions and you’re still sending me crazy’.  Sokrates knew how to drive her thoroughly mad, but sometimes, just sometimes, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

‘I like to be consistent’.

 

‘Please, don’t’ be, for me?’ Kassandra joked, with a hand dramatically pressed to her chest. 

 

‘For you, I shall consider it.  But first, I have a question.’  The misthios groaned audibly.  _No more questions._   ‘Your friend.  The Archon from Mykonos,’

 

‘She’s not my friend’

 

‘Can she be trusted?’ That wasn’t the type of question Kassandra had expected. 

 

She shrugged, solemnly, and sighed, staring at the floor.  ‘I used to think so’.

 

‘Don’t answer with your heart, Kassandra,’ he batted his hands in her direction with impatience, as if he were swatting at a fly.  ‘Not everything revolves around you.  I mean with the negotiations, can she be trusted to make the right choices?’

 

Kassandra thought for a moment, but quickly found herself nodding her affirmation. ‘If there is one thing Kyra _can_ be trusted with, it is making decisions for the good of her people.  If these peace talks are going to save innocent lives, Spartan or Athenian, she will do anything she can to ensure the treaty is signed.’

 

Sokrates stood for a moment.  Brow furrowed, thumb and forefinger, affixed to his chin.  ‘Then she could be in danger too.’

 

* * *

 

 

‘You should always be in a terrible mood.  You’re practically smouldering.’  Kassandra was sat amidst a jumble of colourful throws and cushions, her feet resting on the floor with her elbows on her knees and her face held sullenly between in her hands.  Alkibiades offered her a cup, which she quickly took.  He filled it to the brim with whatever new amphora of wine he’d plucked from his kitchen and quickly settled down to lounge beside her.

 

‘I am not in a terrible mood.  I am just very serious.  I am a professional.’  Kassandra huffed a little and blew a stray strand of brown hair from her eyes.  ‘First Sokrates, now you.  Is there something I have done to the both of you for you to have such low opinions of me?’

 

‘Not at all, Sokrates and I share very little opinion in-common.  We are far from friends’.

 

‘Uh huh’.  They were friends, good friends.  They were all friends.  His argument was invalid.

 

‘I believe you to be very professional,’ Alkibiades said, sipping his wine eagerly, ‘He is just a grumpy, ill-informed old man.  He’s probably jealous of our relationship in fact.  Speaking of relationships…’ Her friend’s eyes danced mischievously in the twilight with his not so subtle segue.

 

‘Do not speak it…’ Kassandra hadn’t had nearly enough wine.  Actually, Kassandra had probably already had far too much wine, either way, she didn’t want to talk about Kyra.

 

‘You and the Archon sounded like you were having a very _heated_ discussion last night.  Such a shame you didn’t open out the debate to the rest of the floor.’

 

‘It was a private conversation Alkibiades’.  Kassandra spoke, stubbornly, taking another gulp of wine.  It was doing her good.  Her body, that had felt taught and tense from the moment she’d discovered Kyra would be in Athens, was beginning to unwind.  Her mind that had been moving at a million miles per hour since the previous night was finally beginning to slow to a more manageable pace.  It wasn’t often wine helped her think more clearly, but she was thankful when it did.

 

‘And why would you and the Archon of Mykonos be meeting in privacy?’  Alkibiades continued to prod. 

 

‘She was inquiring regarding my services, that is all.’ 

 

‘Sounds like she got to sample your services too.’  Her winked as he refilled her glass.  The wine was going down far too easily. 

 

‘Stop.  I know you want to know but it’s not your business, and it is a business that should be left alone’.

 

Alkibiades shuffled closer to. ‘You’re lovers, aren’t you?’ he whispered.  He was like a dog with a bone. 

 

Kassandra shook her head with regret.  ‘Not any longer’. 

 

‘Then what was last night?’ Alkibiades looked genuinely confused at this.

 

‘A mistake.  Now please, I don’t wish to talk about it’.

 

‘Kassandra , What did you do?’

 

‘What did I do?!’ _She came to me._

 

Alkibiades held his hands up a little in defence, precious wine almost spilling over the lip of his cup. ‘She just seems to despise you somewhat, that is all’.  Kassandra could see her friend cringe when he spoke.  She sighed.  Maybe talking about it would help. A problem shared is a problem halved or so they say. She hadn’t even told Barnabus everything that had happened with Kyra and maybe someone like Alkibiades was better placed to give advice on matters of the heart.

 

Kassandra pursed her lips and took another mouthful of wine.  Then she relented.  ‘I received a request for help from a rebel leader, on Mykonos.  Kyra.  I arrived, I met her, and… I wanted her, from the moment we met.  She had wanted me too, but she had lover.  A Spartan Polemarch who was aiding her rebellion.  We did the right thing for a time, until we couldn’t do the right thing any longer.’

 

‘I see.’  Alkibiades said, almost soothingly.  He wanted her to continue.

 

‘He challenged me once he found out.  I didn’t want to fight him.  I tried to appeal to him but… ‘

 

‘Ah.  That was quite foolish’.  He shook his head.

 

‘I know’.  This story wasn’t sounding any better than it did in her head.  In fact, it was sounding worse. 

 

‘Not you, him!’ Alkibiades practically squawked, more wine nearly escaping his cup as he gesticulated vigorously.

 

‘Well that too.’ She shrugged.  This problem shared thing wasn’t making Kassandra feel any better as of yet.

 

‘He had seen you fight, hadn’t he?’  The fact that Alkibiades was so quickly echoing her own thoughts on Thaletas was no comfort. He was her friend, it was his job to do that, no matter the truth.

 

Kassandra nodded, sadly. ‘He wouldn’t have stopped Alkibiades. He’s a Spartan.  He lives and dies by his honour, and he felt he’d lost his.’

 

Alkibiades nodded, thoughtfully.  ‘Hmm.  Because you fucked his girlfriend.’

 

Kassandra ignored her friend’s commentary and continued.  ‘He wanted to win it back or die trying,’ She explained.

 

‘You fucked his girlfriend and she _loved_ it’.  Alkibiades was beginning to enjoy himself far too much.

 

Kassandra rested her hand in her hands, sullenly. ‘He died trying.’

 

‘This is like a work of Sophocles, _so_ tragic.’ He clutched at his chest dramatically, practically swooning.  The distant life and death machinations of lesser people were often entertainment for Alkibiades and he was very much enjoying this story.  He was desperate to hear more.  Hopefully by the time Kassandra was finished recounting her tale, he would remember that it was being told by a friend who was in significant distress, and would perhaps try and offer the appropriate advice in response.

 

‘And lovely Kyra has never forgiven you?’  Kassandra shook her head.  ‘Has she seen you?  You could slit the throats of _all_ my lovers and I’d still beg you to ravish me, daily.’

 

‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ the misthios snorted at her friend’s nonsense, raising her glass to her lips and taking another generous gulp of wine.  Alkibiades always had the best wine. 

 

‘As you should!’ he said, arms outstretch, with a grin.  ‘But I take it, from your reaction the other day, you weren’t expecting to see her here?’

 

Kassandra shook her head once more.  She was doing a lot of that.  Which was probably a symptom of the rather unfortunate situation she had found herself in.

 

‘I wonder if seeing you was a surprise for her also.’ He mused. 

 

Kassandra had wondered this too.  Had Kyra come prepared?  Had she hatched a plan long before the party to get revenge on Kassandra?  Or was it a spur of the moment act?  She wasn’t sure which would be worse. 

 

The misthios shrugged. ‘She was composed when she saw me. A little drunk later in the evening maybe but composed.  Controlled, even.  I think she knew I’d be here. Or she’s got a lot better at hiding her emotions.’

 

‘That is possible. Loss changes people.  How was she behind closed doors?’

 

‘Forward,’ and that was an understatement. ‘Funnily enough, she begged me to ravish her.’

 

Suddenly Alkibiades clutched her shoulder. There was an intake of breath as if he were savouring a particularly fine wine or spectacular sunset. 

 

‘Kassandra, before we continue, I just need to thank you.’ The misthios’ brow wrinkled in confusion. 

 

‘For what?’

 

‘Bringing this wonderful story to my attention.  And you are right to do so, we will have this matter fixed I promise.  These negotiations are destroying my soul.  Too many fighters and not enough thinkers.  You cannot imagine my frustration.’  Kassandra was pretty sure she could.  ‘This story is like ambrosia.  I now have a project that I _want_ to dedicate my time to.’

 

Maybe seeking advice from Alkibiades wasn’t the wisest of decisions.  A speculative ‘Good?‘ was all that the misthios could manage in response.

 

‘Now, tell me,’ and they were back on track. ‘Did you ravish her?’ He asked, with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

 

Kassandra raised an eyebrow of her own and sighed deeply.  ‘I may have lost control.  A little. She’s just so…’ Her head sunk into her hands in, muddled by a sense of shame and the feeling of frustration. ‘Her skin, her hair, her lips, the way she feels under my fingertips… she’s beautiful, Alkibiades.  As soon as I was allowed to touch her, I just lost myself in her, but I worry that is exactly what she wanted.’

 

Her friend nodded, thoughtfully.  ‘You think she was playing with you?’

 

‘I know she was.  She got what she wanted, if you understand my meaning, and then left.’  Kassandra decided to omit the part about payment.  To be walked out on was shameful enough, but to be treated like a whore, that had stirred feelings in Kassandra that couldn’t be shared so freely. Absolute rejection sprung a feeling of worthlessness that was all too familiar to the Spartan girl abandon by her family at the foot of Mount Taygetus.  To be discarded so easily, it hurt.  And what hurt more is that Kyra knew it would. 

 

‘The mighty Eagle-Bearer got played.  This is a turn out for the books.’    

 

‘Malaka, fuck you Alkibiades’.

 

‘Firstly, yes please.’ Kassandra rolled her eyes.  ‘Secondly, we must hatch a plan.’

 

‘For what?’

 

‘For revenge, of course.’

 

‘No.  This stops, n _ow_.’ If there was one thing that would only prove to exacerbate the situation, it would be if she attempted to take any type of revenge on Kyra.  Kassandra just wanted to put an end to whatever was going on.  She was fine before Kyra arrived in Athens, so logically she’d be fine once she left. All that Kassandra needed to do was forget any of this ever happened and keep her head down until a peace was negotiated.  Then Kyra would leave for Mykonos and the misthios could go back to not caring about things.  All Kassandra needed help with was how to not care whilst Kyra was in Athens.

 

‘So, if she comes to you again, what will you do?’

 

‘Turn her away.’ Kassandra said, as if it were obvious.

 

‘Really?  Hmm’.  Her friend tapped his forefinger against his lips, sceptically.  ‘I am not so sure.’ 

 

Kassandra wasn’t so sure either, but that didn’t stop her from becoming instantly defensive.  ‘Why is that?’  She asked, stubbornly.  _Why break the habit of a lifetime?_  She knew that her control was most likely non-existent when it came to Kyra, but she didn’t want other people to know that. For someone to have such power over Kassandra, the might Eagle-Bearer, that was unheard of.  She would very much like her tough exterior to stay intact.

 

‘Two reasons,’ he said, holding up two fingers.  In case Kassandra struggled with counting in multiples of one.  ‘One, you have terrible impulse control, and, two you’re obviously in love with this woman.’ 

 

Kassandra groaned into her cup, before throwing back what was left of its contents.  Alkibiades was right, on both counts.  The sad reality was, if Kyra wanted to ruin her, she could.

 

‘I need more wine Alki.’ Kassandra didn’t feel as if she had any answers when it came to Kyra, so right now, more wine was the answer.

 

‘That can be arranged,’ he said as he leapt up from where he had been lounging next to her, and danced towards the kitchen. 

 

‘What can I do?’ She called behind him.

 

‘Apart from revenge?!’ He called back from the kitchens.  She could hear the deep clinking of clay on clay as her friend searched for a good vintage.

 

‘Yes, apart from revenge!’ He came scampering back towards her with slightly dusty looking amphora.  Settling next to her, he generously refilled her cup and then his.

 

‘This is a good one, I promise.  Only the best for you’.  Kassandra smiled her thanks and Alkibiades sipped at his new wine thoughtfully.  ‘Well, she might hate you.  But, she is also quite obviously very attracted to you still.’

 

‘Who wouldn’t be?’ He tipped his wine in her direction as Kassandra gave him a quick wink.

 

‘Too right.  But then again, if she didn’t care about you at all, why would she even waste her time on you?  It’s not as if a woman like that couldn’t find satisfaction elsewhere.’

 

‘Perhaps other lovers just pale in comparison.  Perhaps I have ruined her.’

 

‘Undoubtedly the case my dear.’  He was a good friend for massaging her ego when she needed to hear it.  ‘But also,’ he said excitedly, ‘Maybe she is confusing love for loathing.  The two are not mutually exclusive.’

 

‘You’re saying she could love me and hate me?’

 

Alkibiades shrugged.  ‘I don’t see why not.  I love mead, for example. I love the taste. I love the way it makes me feel when drinking it.  But I hate the way I feel after and I regret ever putting it near my lips. Until, of course,  omeone offers me mead again.  I have that first wonderful sip, and I’m drowning in the stuff’.

 

Kassandra nodded thoughtfully.  ‘I love mead too, but I can’t afford to drown.  I don’t think I’d find my way back.’

 

* * *

 

 

The sun had risen and was pouring through the door to her balcony. Although it was still early, Kassandra could feel it, warm against her skin.  The sound of olive branches stirring and rustling in the breeze caused her to stir a little too.  

 

Stretching out she felt her back crack, satisfyingly, in a couple of places.  In that mesmeric place between sleep and dream, Kassandra tasted honey on her lips and sea water in the air, carried by the breeze from her balcony.  The movement in the air tickled her soft exposed skin, like delicate kisses adorning her body.   The misthios groaned a little in frustration, Kyra’s name almost escaping her lips as ghostly fingers grazed her nipples and pinched the flesh there.

 

A sharp breath escaped her as fingers scraped down her tight abdomen and teasingly scratched at the inside of her thighs, causing her back to arch and hips to buck involuntarily. Kassandra was well and truly awake now, but her eyes remained shut, tight.  She couldn’t wait much longer, she’d been so frustrated and desperate for release.  She sunk her fingers into her own wetness and wasn’t surprised at the level of her arousal she found there, she was pretty sure she’d been wet since she’d first laid eyes on Kyra two nights before.  

 

Trying to push thoughts of Kyra out of her mind she circled her clit before teasing her own entrance, inserting the very tip of one finger, and then two. Her chest was heaving, her breathing laboured.  She was so close already.  Kassandra hadn’t realised quite how desperate her body had been.

 

Teasing was out of the window.  One hand joined the other, taking control of her clit and allowing the other to delve deeper inside.  Her own, strong fingers stroked the throbbing bundle of nerves roughly, the sensitivity she found there sent hot streaks of pleasure through her legs and down to her toes. Kassandra’s movements were becoming more and more frantic.  She curled the fingers moving inside of her, concentrating on the spot that she knew would give her the deepest and most pleasurable orgasm. 

 

Muscles began to clench and undulate around her fingers, whilst her back arched and her feet tangled in her sheets.  She could taste honey as she bit her bottom lip, hard.  A fire was raging in the very pit of her stomach and Kassandra was careening towards her much needed release.  A breeze swirled from beyond the drapes leading to the balcony, bringing pink blossoms with it and scattering them around the bedroom.  The air cooled her sweat kissed skin, making the hairs there stand on end.  The tightness inside of her was pulsing and throbbing and getting tighter with every stroke of her fingers.  Tighter and tighter until it wasn’t possible for any more tension to exist in her body. She was full.

 

With a few final erratic strokes Kassandra reached her precipice and tumbled from it.  A wave of pleasure radiated from her very core and then broke over her body.  Kyra’s name tumbled from her lips unabashedly as she rode out her orgasm, her hips still bucked ever so slightly as the walls of her pussy pulsed and clung to her fingers.  She continued to stroke her clit lazily, causing her legs to twitch with electricity and stimulation.

 

Kassandra lay, staring at the ceiling of her temporary accommodation, her body feeling as if it was sinking into the stuffed mattress beneath her. After a few minutes, her breathing began to return to normal, and all she wanted to do was roll over, shield her eyes from the sun and sink back into a restful sleep.  No wars, not cult, no Kyra.  Just a peaceful, enveloping darkness.  It would be so easy to drift back off to…

 

There was a thud at the door, loud and abrupt and Kassandra was jerked from her post orgasm high.  _Fuck_.  _Who is calling at this time?_  It couldn’t be too late in the day.  Kassandra would normally awaken just after sunrise, like clockwork.  Only after a particularly heavy drinking session would she sleep through to when the sun was at its highest, and last night hadn’t been one of those.

 

With a groan, the misthios dragged herself out of bed and threw some water on her flushed face and chest, and hastily washed her hands.  She pattered across her bedroom and descended, barefooted, down the stairs of her accommodation. 

 

It was a small but well-presented and well-placed home in North West Athens, close to the Agora. Kassandra didn’t need comfort, but here she’d been afforded the finer things.  There was a small living area, kitted out with rugs and throws, so she could entertain if she wished, and an adjoining kitchen area.  You could step out of her bedroom out onto a South facing balcony, and if she took the small steps up onto the roof, she could see across the Agora to the Acropolis.  The misthios had already taken in quite a few Athenian sunsets from the roof top. 

 

Kassandra grabbed one of the throws in the living area and wrapped it around and over her shoulders to protect her modesty.  Not that modest was a word often used to describe the misthios.  _This better not be Sokrates, back for more philosophising._   ‘Who is it!?’ she called through the thick wooden door.  There was no way she was opening her door to unannounced strangers.

 

‘A friend!’ A rough, deep voice called back.  The voice was familiar.  It was Praxos.   _Fuck_. What could he possibly be wanting with Kassandra at this time in the morning?  Had he been sent to retrieve her? Surely she wouldn’t be due to Pleistoanax’s Villa for a few hours, it was still early.

 

‘Are you alone?’ Kassandra inquired.  The last thing Kassandra wanted was to come face to face with Kyra after she’d just come with her name on her lips.

 

‘Yes.’ Came the response. 

 

Kassandra rested her head against the thick grained wood.  How she wanted to be back in bed.  With a groan she unbolted the lock and swung the heavy door open.  The hulking figure of Praxos stood before her, with a small apologetic smile on his face. He stepped aside with a guilty dip of the head, and behind him stood Kyra.  _Fuck me._

 

‘Malaka.  We are _not_ friends, Praxos’.  What was she doing there?  Could this woman not give Kassandra one moment of peace?  If she wasn’t invading her mind, she was invading her home.

 

‘Praxos is needed elsewhere this morning.  You will be escorting me to the Negotiations.’  In fairness, Kyra didn’t seem too pleased to be seeing Kassandra either, so perhaps this wasn’t something the Archon had purposefully orchestrated.  Now even the fates were meddling with her.  Hadn’t they done enough damage?

 

‘Negotiations don’t start for hours. Come back later’.  Kassandra began to close the door but Kyra stuck out a strong arm.

 

‘Praxos must leave for the Silver Mountain now, Pleistoanax insisted I make my way here.  I will be honest with you Eagle-Bearer, I dislike this as much as you do.  Now, may I come in?’ So, this had been the King’s idea.  How selfless of him, giving up his favourite misthios to ensure the protection of the beautiful Archon.

 

Kassandra nodded, reluctantly.  Being the King’s orders, she had to obey.  Well, if she wanted to get paid.  And the payment was handsome.

 

The misthios stepped aside and allowed Kyra entrance.  ‘You best keep her safe Kassandra.‘ warned Praxos, with a wagging finger.

 

‘Oh, spare me, _friend’_ , Kassandra sneered, her voice dripping with sarcasm, as she shut the door in the larger warrior’s face. 

 

She turned to see Kyra surveying the small living area.  It was humble, but nothing to be ashamed of.  However, if Kassandra had known Kya would have been coming she might have cleared up a little.  The amount of wine she’d consumed over the last week had been ungodly, and the cups which acted as evidence of her copious drinking lay scattered around the room. 

 

‘I have nothing to offer you. So, either you can sit here,’ Kassandra motioned to the pile of throws and cushions on the floor, ‘or you can sit on the balcony.  If I’m supposed to be protecting you, I’d say the balcony is probably not the safest place to be, but it is beautiful this time of day.’

 

Kyra’s eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms over her chest, accusatorily. ‘Do you wish me dead misthios?’

 

Kassandra smiled, cynically. ‘Do you wish me to answer that, Kyra? No?  Then I will be upstairs.  Sleeping. Make yourself comfortable’.  With that, the misthios disappeared up the small set of stairs and padded back to her bedroom.  After unceremoniously discarding her make-shift chiton she collapsed back into bed.  The day was off to a fantastic start.  Could she just fall asleep and start again?  She was certainly going to try.

  

 

It was the clattering of horses on the street outside that woke her up this time.  The sun was a little higher in the sky now and shining directly onto her skin.  She shifted and stretched to free her arm from whatever it was that had caused it to lose feeling.  Soft hair tickled the soft skin upon her neck.  She went to scratch the itch but couldn’t retrieve her hand from underneath…  Kassandra’s eyes fluttered open suddenly.

 

Tucked into the warmth of Kassandra’s neck was Kyra.  She seemed still.  Kassandra couldn’t move.  Her heart began to beat loudly, so loudly she was worried it would wake the other woman.

 

If Kyra awoke, Kassandra would have to deal with whatever was going on here.  If she stayed asleep, she’d eventually have to deal with whatever was going on and also wrestle with her feelings on it until she did.  _This woman will be the death of me._

Instinctively, Kassandra raised her free hand to tuck a few stray strands of hair behind Kyra’s ears and observed the Mykonos native for a moment.  Her face was peaceful.  Her eyelashes rested delicately against her cheeks and her brow was relaxed and unburdened. It didn’t carry the same eternal frown that seemed to have made itself common place since Kyra arrived in Athens.  Or at least since Kyra had found Kassandra in Athens.  She was so beautiful like this. 

 

Kassandra pressed her lips softly against Kyra’s forehead and whispered her name.  The Archon began to stir.  Dark eyes met darker ones. ‘What are you doing in my bed Kyra?’ The misthios kept her voice low.

 

Soft lips brushed against her neck as Kyra mumbled, sleepily, ‘You said to make myself comfortable’.  A hand brushed against her stomach and Kassandra suddenly remembered that she was very naked under the sheets.  Sheet’s that were still wet with her sweat from her morning activities.

 

‘By making me very uncomfortable?’

 

The hand quickly withdrew from her stomach.  ‘If this is not what you want…’ It was exactly what she wanted, which is why it was a terrible idea.  She was still wet from earlier that morning, but as soon as Kyra’ fingers had grazed her skin across her abdomen, she went from being satiated to exasperated within the space of a few moments.

 

‘Is this how it’s going to be? This constant torture.’  Kassandra could feel her temper rising.  Since when had one woman had such power over her?  _Since you first laid eyes upon her_ , said a quiet knowing voice in the back of her mind.

 

‘What would you prefer?’ Kyra asked, defiantly, her eyes piercing.

 

‘I’d prefer to be left alone.’  Kassandra huffed, as she threw back the sheets and clambered out of bed.  To Hades with preserving her dignity.  Kyra used to worship every inch of her body, it wasn’t anything she’d not seen before.

 

‘Would you?  I thought you were happy to fuck without feeling,’ Here was the venom she was expecting from Kyra.  It had arrived late to the party, but it had arrived in style.  ‘You certainly have a reputation for it.  Isn’t that what you do best?’

 

Kassandra began to pull on a set of leather armour, sitting with her back to Kyra.  If she saw the Archon still sat in her bed, eyes heavy and hair tousled by sleep, she might lose the remaining strands of control she had left.  The misthios shook her head.  ‘You know that isn’t true.’

 

‘Or is it killing? You’re quite adept at that.  How many people did you have to kill before you started to feel numbed to it?’

 

Kassandra pulled the leather fastenings on her armour tight with purpose and gritted her teeth. ‘You know me better than that, Kyra.  We are not so different, remember?’  Now she looked at the Archon, eyebrow raised expectantly.

 

‘We are not the same.’ That had made Kyra angry, _good_.

 

‘Oh please. Your cause may have been noble, but that does not make you a just person.  You lied, stole, killed to get what you wanted. You have blood on your hands Kyra, just like me.’   They weren’t just talking about Kyra’s rebellion now, and they both knew it.  Kassandra saw panic in Kyra’s eyes for the first time.

 

‘We are not discussing this.’ Kyra was quick to rid herself of the sheets from Kassandra’s bed and make for the stairs, but Kassandra was quick to close the distance between them and stood, blocking Kyra’s escape with her larger frame.

 

They were close again now, with Kyra’s angry, heavy breath, hot against Kassandra’s skin.  The misthios jabbed an accusatory finger at the Archon.  ‘You invite yourself into my home, into my bed, we are discussing what I would like to discuss.’  She said, jabbing the same finger into Kyra’s chest to emphasise her point.

 

‘No.’  Kyra tried to pass her but Kassandra had a firm grip on her arm. 

 

‘I protected myself,’ Kassandra was practically shaking with anger now.  She’d promised herself she wouldn’t apologise, and she wasn’t going to. ‘You might not agree with my methods, but I do no regret my actions that night, only the consequences.’ 

 

‘Stop,’ Kyra almost sobbed. She was practically begging now. Suddenly things were very different. Part of Kassandra knew she should, she knew she should stop.  Things were about to get much _much_ worse, if she didn’t stop her mouth.  But she couldn’t.  She was too angry.  Three years of hurt, frustration, emptiness and loneliness were radiating out of her. 

 

She continued, her voice surprisingly controlled.  ‘And the reason you hurt, is because you know the responsibility doesn’t just lie with me. You deceived him, you replaced him, and he knew you loved me.  So, stop punishing me and start punishing yourself.’

 

Tears began to form in Kyra’s eyes.  She’d stopped fighting Kassandra now, and had relented to the onslaught of angry words. ‘You think I haven’t?’

 

Kassandra had already opened her mouth to begin her next tirade of angry words and hurtful truths, but Kyra’s words kicked her in the gut and sent her crashing back down to earth. She loosened her grip on the other woman’s arm and saw angry red marks forming where she’d gripped too tight.  _You absolute malaka._

 

The woman in front of Kassandra wasn’t the same one who had seduced her two nights ago at the party. This woman was different, broken, and Kassandra didn’t know how to begin to fix her.  ‘Kyra, I…’

 

‘I came here in search for peace but all I have found here in Athens, is you.  Please, take me to the Law Courts.  Once I’m there, you will not have to see me again, and maybe I can find the peace I’ve been searching for.’

 


	3. Talk that talk baby

_Talk that talk, baby._ _Better walk, better walk that walk, baby_  
_If you talk, if you talk that talk, baby_  
_Better walk, better walk that walk, baby_

 

* * *

 

 

We rode side by side through the street of Athens.  Kassandra’s leg brushed and knocked against mine in an attempt to stay as close to me as possible.  After our altercation in her lodgings it was odd to feel her skin on mine, to feel her so close.  Her skin was warm and smooth but the leather strappings on her boots scratched against the exposed skin of my calves.  Kassandra though, Kassandra didn’t flinch or fluster.  She just continued, eyes straight ahead, scanning the growing crowds as we drew nearer to the Agora.  Her body was alert and rigid with tension with one balled fist wrapped tightly around Phobos’ reigns and the other fixed to the hilt of her sword, ready to unsheathe it at any sign of danger.

 

I was glad to see that even though the woman quite clearly hated my guts a moment earlier, she was now taking my protection rather seriously.  Incredibly seriously, in fact, despite my arm still baring the angry red marks her fingers had left there.  Hopefully those marks will have dissipated by the time we arrive, otherwise the King may have some questions for the Misthios.  And although this idea, was in part, delightful, the King knowing that mine and Kassandra’s relationship went beyond professional would probably not bode well for either of us.

 

Professional was what our relationship needed to become.  Professional would make things easy, because Kassandra understood drachmae. That’s all she understood.  She would provide her services for gold until the negotiations were over, and then I will sail back to my beautiful, Kassandra free Island. 

 

Although it wasn’t really Kassandra free, was it?  She had left such a lasting impression on the Island and its people.  Including myself .  I love my Island, I love my people.  I have fought for it, for them, and would die for them a hundred times over.  For the beaches, the sunsets, the wild flowers. I’d die so that they could retain the absolute beauty and freedom they offer.  But I am also trapped on my Island, by its beaches, by its sunsets and wildflowers, because for me, I see her in all of them.   On Mykonos, Kassandra is inescapable. 

 

She’s in the hunt of the Ibex and the wake of the waves as they lap against the white beaches. She’s in the blossoms of springtime. She’s in the sunsets and moonlit nights and when I hear the waves lapping gently at the shore and I close my eyes on a warm summer’s evening, I can still see her underneath me, feel her even. Her dark eyes alive in the fire light, watching hungrily as I ride her under the moon. 

 

She’s in the torch lit nights too though, and in every funeral pyre we light.  Kassandra brought freedom to my Island, but with her she also brought death.  I would ever be free of her, even in death?  Would she recognise me in Hades?  I couldn’t say.  But I’d see her work in the faces of those she’d sent there.  Like I said, Kassandra was inescapable.

 

I’d thought that when I made my way to Athens, I would be free of her, just for a few weeks.  But how wrong I’d been.

 

I studied the object of my frustration a little longer.  Although the sun hadn’t reached its highest point, the heat was already verging on unbearable, and I longed to be in the cool, marble shade of the Law Courts. A sheen of sweat covered Kassandra’s skin and I remembered the last time I’d tasted her. My lips and tongue fervently exploring her neck, and collar bone.  My teeth finding purchase on her incredibly strong and heaving shoulders.  Her fingers curling inside of me.  A sudden pang of pleasure pulled at the very pit of my stomach and I stifled a silent gasp.  Object of frustration was right.

 

The taught muscles in Kassandra’s jaw began to twitch and clench and the knuckles gripping Phobos’ reigns turned white.  She’d felt my eyes on her but didn’t turn to meet me.  She simply continued to scour the crowds ahead of us. 

 

After our argument, Kassandra had thankfully done what I’d asked of her.  She’d taken me outside, fetched our horses and we’d begun the journey towards the second day of negotiations.  Since then, she hadn’t spoken one word, which I actually welcomed. But how easily she’d done it, how easily she’d switched off and gone back to playing the hardened mercenary. That I did not welcome, that infuriated me.  Which in turn made we want to scream.

 

How could this woman have such an effect on me?  How could I feel such a connection to a woman I’d cast out, to a woman who brought me and still brings me so much grief?  Of course, I knew the answer to that question.  Why did I see her in the beaches of Mykonos, in the meadows, the streets?  Why can I not bear to be around her but not bear to be without her?  I know why. 

 

From the moment I saw her at the party, I was done for.  She was in Athens.  She had taken my Island from me, and she was taking Athens too.  I was angry, and I’m still angry now. 

 

I was angry that when I felt her gaze on me, I’d hoped she was undressing me with her eyes.  I was angry that the only thing King Pleistoanax spoke of during our conversations was Kassandra. I was angry to even hear my name on her lips, and I was angry that I almost let myself scream hers. 

 

So, I’d left, and I’d been cruel.  But the fates had been cruel, and I’d wanted Kassandra to feel just a splinter of what I’d felt, I needed her to know.   The fates had taken the man I’d loved and in doing so, taken from me the woman I’d loved too.  But I knew the deeper reason for my anger. 

 

Kassandra fights for money, for justice, for the fun even.  But had she had begged me, had she tried to reason with me, tried to explain?  Had she fought for me?  If she had, I’d have at least known she loved me also.  But if she didn’t, Thaletas hadn’t died for love. So what had he died for, nothing? He’d died senselessly, and she’d left without a word, so I’d grieved doubly so.

 

To then find out that once Kassandra had left Mykonos, she’d found everything she’d ever wanted sparked a new feeling in me.  One that I hadn’t expected but one that I was familiar with.  I had been jealous, and I know that I’m still jealous now.  She’d found her Mother, her brother, her father. Her family had been reunited in Sparta, whilst mine were still dead.  Kassandra had said that we were the same, that we had lived the same lives, and felt the same losses and rejections. But we were not the same.  Not anymore.  Kassandra’s scars were healing, mine had been re-opened.

 

But she was still the same beautiful, intelligent, challenging person I’d know on Mykonos. Of that, there was no question.  She was one of the few people who I’d ever felt to be my equal.  Intellectually, emotionally, sexually.   But she could be hard, and unflinching too.  A person couldn’t slay waves and waves of Athenian soldiers and not be able to switch off her emotions when she needed too.  There was no room for empathy in war, empathy would get you killed. And let’s not forget Kassandra was used to switching off.  It’s easier to switch off than face rejection.  Care less, and it won’t hurt so much.  There had always been is a hardness to her, a hardness that I was seeing now.  I’d seen it at the party.  And I’d seen it the night I’d banished her from Mykonos.  She hadn’t tried to beg or reason, she hadn’t tried to explain.  She’d simply left. 

 

Despite my spiralling thoughts, I couldn’t help but smile.  It was funny that, in a way, it was this hardness that made the contrast so unequivocally and astoundingly beautiful, and Kassandra was all the better for it. It was in the way she’d ask for kisses before simply taking them from you.  The way she’d smile contentedly in Barnabas’ presence and roll her eyes at his embellished stories, despite being absolutely captivated by every word.  The way she’d completely bare herself to me despite all her instincts and all her training.  She’d give herself over to me completely, gasping and grasping at sheets with me between her legs.  She made herself to be vulnerable, and she trusted me with that.

 

Our horses weaved through the thickening crowds.  Local workers would be out seeking lunch soon and it would be wise to reach the Courts before the rush.  Kassandra seemed to sense this too and gave Phobos a gentle clip with her heels.  My horse matched his pace and within minutes we had arrived at our destination.

 

An Athenian soldier approached, to take the reins of our horses.  Kassandra must have known him, as she gave him a curt nod before silently gesturing for me to go before her.  Of course, she wanted me to enter first so she could protect me from any threat behind.  I risked a sideways glance and a nod of the head as I passed her, to show my understanding. I got nothing in return.

 

Once inside, we were met by a group of Spartan and Athenian soldiers who were begrudgingly working side by side.  After another nod of approval, I was granted access.  I turned back to Kassandra and noticed that she had not followed me.  Although she was personal protector to the King, she hadn’t been allowed inside the negotiation chambers, just as Praxos hadn’t been.  It was the first time our eyes had met since we’d begun our journey across the Agora. I studied her for a moment longer, and what did I find in her eyes?  Nothing.

 

* * *

 

 

‘Kassandra!’ The King’s voice boomed off of the cool marble walls of the agora as he spotted the Misthios waiting for us.  He threw his arms out to greet her. ‘I must thank you for taking care of Kyra.’ 

 

‘There is no need to thank me, my King.’  I knew that tone too well.  Kassandra’s was not being gracious; in fact, she hadn’t even attempted a smile.    

 

‘Well, it is appreciated all the same’.  He gave Kassandra an overly firm clap round the back, which would have sent most men tumbling but the misthios merely raised a questioning eyebrow.  She was strong, so strong.  I had almost forgotten how strong, until she’d held me down two nights previous. I still had the bruises to prove it.   

 

‘I believe you’re here to escort The Archon back to her residence, Misthios.  However, as Praxos is still otherwise engaged outside the city walls, would you be so kind as to escort us both back to my villa?’ 

 

What?  This was the first I had heard of these plans. I had hoped that Praxos’ duties at Silver Mountain would only take the day and he would be back before dusk.  Any time after and the ride would be a dangerous one.  Considering he was simply delivering a message to a Spartan Camp a short ride outside of the City, a delay like this seemed odd.  And, I hated to say it, but potentially convenient.  I’m an astute woman, and like most astute women, I can tell when a gentleman is interested in pursuing me.  But surely the King wouldn’t put a man’s life in danger, just to spend a few more hours with a woman that had piqued his interest.

 

Kassandra’s eyebrow remained raised, and she looked as sceptical as I was now feeling.  Despite our inability to coexist alone in the same space without feeling the need to persecute each other…. _or undress each other_ , our gut instincts seemed unwaveringly harmonious. 

 

He raised a hand to my arm and brushed his thumb delicately across my shoulder, in a way he must have thought comforting.  Kassandra’s eyes locked with mine.  Was she trying to gauge my reaction?  I couldn’t tell. ‘You will be well protected there, you have my word,’ he offered, soothingly.  By this point Kassandra’s eyebrow had become permanently lost within her hairline.   

 

‘Thank you, my King.  But if I may ask, when do expect Praxos and his contingent back?  I’m keen to hear of his safety’.  The fact was, whether the King had purposefully delayed the return of Praxos or not, being out after nightfall added an additional element of risk that I might not have accepted when the arrangement was offered to me the evening before.

 

‘I will have a report by nightfall, I am sure.’  He smiled once more and gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze in the hope of reassuring me. I was not reassured.  In fact, I was liking this less and less as time went on. The King’s lack of concern was worrying. If he wasn’t concerned, he was in control and if he was in control, it meant that all of this was intentional. 

 

‘Kassandra, please, bring our horses.  We will meet you outside.’

 

The misthios nodded silently and quickly turned upon her heel.  She’d obviously needed no excuse to put some distance between herself and the King’s advances.  But it wasn’t like Kassandra to be jealous.  Wait, no, it’s was absolutely like Kassandra to be jealous. 

 

The King glanced back over his shoulder to watch her go, and his eyes seemed lost for a moment.   A small, appreciative smile, crept across his dark features.  ‘She is a fantastic specimen.  Wouldn’t you agree?’

 

My stomach flipped at his words and for the first time in a long time, words failed me.  He was looking at her.  He was  _looking at_  her.  All that time spent singing her praises at the party, was it a desire for her that was fuelling him?  I felt heat on my cheeks, stoked by the fire that had taken up residence in my chest. Kassandra was not his to look at. His eyes had been on her body, her arms, her bronzed skin.  They’d been on her soft lips and her flowing  hair. Hair to pull and lose your fingers in. 

 

I had to get hold of myself, as I could feel his eyes on me.  Could I be jealous also?  I could absolutely be jealous. 

 

I took a quick steady breath and met his eyes.  With a smile affixed, I responded.‘Yes, indeed, your grace.’  It was all I could muster. 

 

He hummed appreciatively. ‘Born of Ares’.  I hated him in that moment. 

 

I nodded.  All I needed to do was play along.  He was harmless.  He was a man.  No man in Greece wouldn’t look at Kassandra in that way.  No woman for that matter either.  And he was right about Ares, but Kassandra would have put Hippolyta to shame. ‘She is certainly, Amazonian in stature’.

 

‘Amazonian, yes,’ he smiled. ‘But to you, she does not compare.’ 

 

So, it could get worse. Now I understood.  He had spent time with me at the party.  He’d touched my arms gently, taken my hands in his.  I’m not naïve, I knew what he’d meant by it. But he hadn’t vocalised anything until now, and he’d certainly not been so pointed.  Brief touches and lust filled glances after an amphora of wine can be put down to a man being well, human, but this was different.  This was him stating his intentions, very clearly, and this I need to be wary of.  I was used to fending off unwanted advances from men, and women when I was lucky, but none of them had been Kings.  And none had been a King of Sparta. 

 

He gestured for me to follow him.  The light was lower in the sky now, and columns cast long shadows across the marble floors.  We stepped out into the guarded courtyard.  ‘I did not know me and the misthios were in competition, my King.’

 

He smiled once more before stepping into the courtyard where Kassandra was waiting with our horses. ‘You are not’, he whispered.

 

* * *

 

 

‘So, the Boetians are refusing to sign?’  Kassandra asked, incredulously as she poured a generous helping of ruby red wine into the King’s cup.

 

Pleistoanax nodded before taking a generous gulp. ‘As are Corinth, Elis and Megara.  There is a lot of mistrust of the Athenians, despite their terms being palatable.’ 

 

Kassandra shook her head in disbelief.  The idea that the Boetians would not side with Sparta was beyond belief.  But then again, the Spartan’s were agreeing to give back much of the land that had been so fiercely fought for.  ‘And you would return Amphipolis?  Many good men died to claim it’.  Including Brasidas.  Would his death be in vain if the Spartan’s relinquished their hold on Makedonia? That didn’t sit well with Kassandra, despite her knowing that Brasidas truly died in the fight against the Cult and not in a fight against Athens.  Athens and its people were just the pawns.

 

The King nodded again, earnestly.  ‘Yes, I would if it meant we could bring peace to Greece and return to us our prisoners. Athens would also relinquish its control over the Oracle at Delphi and they are offering support in the case of a Helot revolt.  These are good terms, Kassandra.’

 

He wasn’t wrong.  Any kind of peace would be a victory for Greece. No more bloodshed can only be a positive outcome for both parties, whatever the cost to their pride.  Kassandra nodded in agreement, ‘No need for more good men to die.’  She took a swig from her own cup of wine, only to realise that she’d already emptied it. She looked up to find the King gesturing to her with an amphora.  She offered her cup and he filled it.

 

When they spoke like this, they were equals.  Kassandra was well travelled.  She’d seen Thebes, Makedonia, Attica, Korinth, the Silver Islands, Thasos, Megaris and further.  And probably drawn swords in every single one of them too.  All over Greece, the people knew the Eagle-Bearer.  She could offer the young King insight into a world he’d never seen or experienced, and the King valued that.

 

‘We are in agreement there Misthios.’ 

 

‘So why are the Boeotians refusing to sign?  Thebes, surely, is not in a position to bargain?  Maybe a century ago but now?’ 

 

‘I think you have your answer, Kassandra.  The Boeotians have resented being subservient to Sparta for years.  They still see this war as a way to scrape back some semblance of relevance.  Not signing this treaty is a significant act of rebellion that will only serve to damage Sparta.  But the power is suddenly back in Boeotian hands.  We are now the subservient ones.’

 

Kassandra frowned and went back to her wine for a moment.  She sipped as she remembered something Sokrates had warned her about. There were men in Athens that didn’t want peace, men who would do anything to ensure a treaty wasn’t signed. Could these men be Boeotian?  ‘I have been warned that there are men in Athens, men who do not want peace, dangerous men.'

 

The King laughed, and threw his arms open wide ‘Why do you think I asked you to accompany me here?’ 

 

‘Because I know the most reputable porneia?’  The misthios winked.

 

‘Ah yes, and you know where to find all the best wine.’  He raised his cup to her and drank.  She did the same. 

 

‘Well,’ Kassandra shrugged, ‘I’ve killed Boeotians before, I can do it again.’

 

He grinned.  ‘Of that, Eagle-Bearer, I have no doubt.’ 

 

Movement caught the King’s eye somewhere behind Kassandra and he quickly leapt from his seat. Startled, the misthios turned, hand quickly to the hilt of her sword and came eye to eye with possibly the last person she wanted to see but probably the only person she should have expected to see.  Kyra.  Of course, it was Kyra.  Kyra was in the Villa.  _Fuck, Kyra is here._  

 

It was now quite clear to Kassandra that perhaps she’d gotten a little too comfortable with Pleistoanax and had been caught off guard.  Not the type of behaviour one would want from a personal protector. She’d also potentially had a little too much wine.  She was supposed to be on duty after all, and now she was drunk on duty with Kyra.  _Malaka._

 

‘Ah, Kyra,’ the King was practically beaming.  Kassandra cringed, inwardly. ‘I do hope you found you room well.’

 

‘Thank you, my King,’ she gave a humbled nod, ‘I will be more than comfortable’.

 

‘That is good to hear.’ He gestured for her to take a seat and she acquiesced. ‘Wine?’  Kassandra would have taken that as her queue fetch the Amphora, but the King was already filling a fresh glass himself.  Already demonstrating what an attentive husband he could be.  Delightful.

 

‘Thank you.’  Kyra dipped her head respectfully.  But that was it.  There was no flirtatious smile, no touch of the hand, just respect.

 

‘I was just filling Kassandra here in on today’s negotiations.’

 

‘Are you sure that’s wise, my King?’ Kyra smiled, sardonically and Kassandra braced herself for the scathing comment she knew was headed her way _,_ for she knew that smile all too. It was plastered to Kyra’s face the first the women had laid eyes upon each other.  Of course that was the moment Kassandra had almost taken a knife to the side of the head, and looking back that might have been the moment she’d fallen in love with the woman. ‘A misthios’ sword is easily swayed by just a little drachmae, what makes you think her tongue isn’t also?’ 

 

If there was one thing Kyra must have known about Kassandra, it was that she was loyal.  Perhaps not always to the same side, but to the right side.  This information obviously wasn’t enough to stop the Archon from having some fun at Kassandra’s expense.  But of course, two could play at that game, especially when under the influence. Blame Dionysus.

 

Kassandra couldn’t help but laugh because it was all too easy.  ‘For you Kyra, my tongue could be swayed, free of charge.’  Kyra’s eyes snapped to Kassandra’s as the King’s laughter rung throughout the villa, echoing off of its marble walls and floors. 

 

‘Kassandra, now this is the real reason I keep you around.’   

 

The misthios smirked smugly and to her surprise Kyra didn’t scold her.  There were no furious eyes or threats at knife point.  Kyra simply shook her head disparagingly, but she couldn’t hide the smile that crept across her face.  Kassandra’s stomach did a flip flop and is by magic, she was wondering what the insides of Kyra’s thighs would taste like right now if she could run her tongue delicately and teasingly across the soft skin there.  She wondered how the skin would feel between her teeth and what sounds she could elicit from the Archon, under her touch.  It was Kyra’s fault for talking about tongues. 

 

It was probably time to take herself outside and sober up.  She was still due to check in with the patrol at midnight, and she’d have to do at least a few rounds of perimeter to get some element of sobriety back.   And she needed to cool down too.  Kassandra knew she was getting a little hot under the armour and that had to stop. She’d told Kyra to stop, to leave her be.  Was it what she wanted, truly, deeply?  But was it what she needed?  Absolutely.    

 

‘It seems as if you have both been enjoying yourself.’ Kyra said.

 

‘We have, and me a little too much I think,’ Kassandra turned to Pleistoanax and rose to her feet, thankful that her legs stood firm.  ‘My King, If I may be dismissed, I should probably refrain from anymore wine and check on the perimeter.’

 

‘No, Kassandra, stay!’ Pleaded the King. 

 

Kassandra glanced to Kyra. ‘Any more wine and I might not be in the best state to protect you.’  It was true.  It wasn’t drachmae that could loosen the misthios’ tongue, it was wine, and with anymore of the stuff she might not be able to protect Kyra from herself, never mind outside intruders.  She’d already spoken out of turn, however fun it might have been.  But their playful jibes could quickly turn hurtful if they went unchecked, and Zeus knows the damage they could cause each other in front of the King.

 

And what  _about the_  people Sokrates had spoken of?  If they came that night, if they came now…?  Kassandra dread to think.  She needed to get her head back in the game.  Yes, she’d wanted to take her mind off of Kyra.  She’d know she was in the Villa, and she’d known that at some point they would be speaking again, so she’d wanted to take the edge off but she hadn’t wanted to get so inebriated she’d have no King to protect by the end of the night.

 

‘But you should stay, stay and talk.’  Pleistoanax was pleading with her now. Staying and talking with Kyra was the last thing Kassandra wanted.  ‘Just one glass more.’

 

The King wasn’t asking, and there were only so many times one could refuse a King.  Yes, he respected her, yes, he valued her conversation and opinion, but yes, she was still his subject.  So, Kassandra relented.  ‘One glass then.’

 

* * *

 

  

The conversation had flowed better than Kassandra had expected.  Kyra had been quick to finish her first cup of wine, a cup that became the first of many.  They quickly eased into each other’s company and Kassandra even found herself offering Kyra grateful nods when she’d switch Kassandra’s full glass for her empty one. They spoke of the negotiations, and the current situation in Sparta, as well as how Mykonos was developing into a thriving Island.  Kassandra had told Kyra that she was very pleased to hear this and attributed the Island’s success to its astute leader, and Kyra had attributed her success to its people.  Kyra had smiled when Kassandra had tipped her glass and called her a _magnanimous leader,_ Kassandra had smiled also.

 

As the King became more and more inebriated, he demanded Kassandra regale them with stories from her adventuring, so she told him of the Labyrinth and the beast she’d found inside. She told him of when she’d hunted and killed the Boeotian Champions, and cruelty they’d shown to their own people. He cheered and applauded every victory.

 

‘The mercenary drew his blade on me!  He had no intention of taking me to meet Brasidas, the Malaka.  And he’d brought friends, too’. 

 

‘Korinthian scum, remind me to sanction them for that.  What did you?’

 

‘Well, one took a long trip down the mountainside.  The other I ran through with his own spear, and that damned mercenary was left as an offering to Zeus.’

 

‘You left him on the alter?’ Kyra asked, eyebrow raised.  She was not shocked or appalled.  She was impressed. 

 

‘Of course, she did! She is the Eagle-Bearer,’ The King practically punched the air, sloshing wine across the marble floor.  The red liquid pooling like blood, bright on the smooth white stone.  ‘Feared mercenary, skilled fighter, trained killer, famed lover’.

 

A laughed escaped Kassandra as she took a sip out of her now empty cup.  She shook her head.  ‘Good wine, gone to waste’.

 

Pleistoanax rested his chin in his hand, his elbow resting upon his knee, and sighed contentedly. ‘You two are like no women I have ever met.’

 

Kyra rolled her eyes. ‘You come from a land filled with strong, fearless women’.

 

He shook his head.  ‘But not like yourselves.’

 

‘Kyra is from the Silver Isles, my King.  There, they build women in the image of Artemis’.

 

‘So you _are_ a goddess,’ his eye widened in awe.  It was then Kassandra remembered how young the King really was.  With the stress of the negotiations weighing heavily on him he’d looked older.  But now, after a few amphoras of wine, that weight had been lifted.  He was excitable, optimistic, and flirtatious.  Poor thing would be eaten alive by Kyra in this state of inebriation.

 

‘I have been told that once or twice.’  Kyra’s eyes caught Kassandra’s.  She was challenging her to remember, but Kassandra’s didn’t need reminding.  She didn’t even need to blink and she was back on that moonlit beach, gently unravelling the cords of Kyra’s chiton, revealing the warm, soft skin underneath.  Kassandra’s breath had caught in her throat when she’d finally been able to take in the site of Kyra, completely naked before her.  In the light of the moon, it was like she’d been carved from the finest marble.  ‘ _You… you’re a goddess, Kyra_ ’.  Kassandra needed to get sober, and fast, but it just wasn’t happening. 

 

‘Then it must be true. You are Artemis herself’.  Claimed the King, triumphantly.

 

Kassandra tipped her cup to the Archon, ‘She is godly with a bow, that is for certain’.

 

‘Well Kyra,’ The King leant forward, clumsily capturing Kyra’s hand in his.  ‘You have certainly ensnared me’.  Kassandra’s eyes flashed to the Archon’s but Kyra gave her an easing look that told the misthios she had things under control.  _You better had_.  

 

‘And she wasn’t even trying.’  Kyra gave Kassandra another look.  She was being told to shut her mouth.  Even after copious wine, Kyra knew when to speak and when to listen.  Kassandra didn’t know that at the best of times.

 

The King paused and became thoughtful for a second, as if he was weighing up something in his mind. Once he’d come to a conclusion about his apparent course of action, he turned to Kassandra resolutely.  ‘I wanted to ask you a question.  It’s a question for both of you.’

 

‘Of course, my King,’ Could she say no?

 

‘How well do you know each other?’  He asked, looking between them.  Kassandra’s stomach dropped and Kyra’s plastered on smile faltered.  Their eyes met momentarily and with an imperceptible nod, Kassandra knew Kyra was on the same page.  He was asking if they were together, or ever had been together, and very quickly the mood changed within the villa. 

 

‘As well as two people who have fought by each other’s side, for the same cause,’ Kassandra explained. It made sense, Kyra and Kassandra did fight together on Mykonos and that ca forge a bond in two people.  _It was feasible enough.  Right?_

 

‘So, close then?’  The King was pushing his luck.

 

‘We were close on Mykonos, for a time.  We both enjoy the hunt.’  Kyra offered, casually.  Hoping this would appease the King’s curiosity.

 

‘But you are so distant now. You don’t behave like friends, you don’t even behave like allies.  You behave like… neighbours.  Neighbours that need each other for survival.’ Kassandra now knew he wouldn’t be letting this go.  This wasn’t a casual question and answer.  He’d been watching, observing them, and that made Kassandra un-easy.

 

The misthios continued in an attempt to shrug it off.  ‘Well, I’ve not set foot on Mykonos for three years, my King.  A lot has happened in that time, both of us have moved on.’ That was the wrong choice of words, especially as they were totally avoidable considering it was becoming more and more obvious the pair had in fact not moved on in any way.

 

‘I see.’ And Kassandra knew he really did.

 

‘What do you see, my King?’ It was Kyra who spoke up now, her voice uncharacteristically apprehensive. Again, Kyra and Kassandra were on the same page, and it didn’t make for good reading.

 

The King took Kyra’s hands in his again and smiled.  But something had changed, it wasn’t a sympathetic smile, no, it was a pitying one. Kassandra had never seen pity like this from him before, and it wasn’t something she liked.  It reminded her of someone else.  ‘Kyra, you are an Archon, and goddess.  You deserve so much better than this sell sword.’ 

 

‘Ela!’  Kassandra slammed her fist down upon the table they were sat around.  ‘That is _enough_!’ The misthios could hear no more.  Sell sword?  Who was he calling a sell sword?  Who did he think he was putting his hands upon Kyra in that way, looking at her in that way, pitying her in that way?  She was losing her temper and fast, but Pleistoanax really didn’t seem to care.  In fact, he seemed almost jubilant.  He was being entertained.

 

Kyra laid a tactful hand upon his arm, and he gazed up merrily into her dark eyes.  ‘I think I’ve had a little too much wine, my King.  I think we both have.’  Kassandra prayed to the Gods he’d agree. 

 

He smiled again and placed his other hand upon hers.  ‘We certainly have, Kyra.  We certainly have.  Personal protector’, he gestured dramatically for Kassandra, ‘Escort me to my room’. Kassandra had gone from _the Might Eagle-Bearer, feared mercenary and famed lover, to_ sell sword to bed nurse within the space of five minutes.

 

She’d settle for bed nurse over being the subject of an interrogation.  But it seemed the King had all the information he wanted already.  Kassandra sighed and huffed through her nose in an attempt to rid the anger and frustration from her body.  She gave herself one final moment to collect herself and finally stood up, giving a small nod to Pleistoanax, ‘Yes, my King’.

 

Within a few moments, they had left a worried Kyra behind.  When they reached Pleistoanax quarters, the King gestured for the guards at his bedroom door to leave, and they did so briskly.  _This bodes well_. 

 

Opening the door to his room, the King turned and leant against its frame. His eyes were dark.  ‘So, when you close that door are you going to fuck her like you did at the party?’

 

Kassandra blinked for a moment, completely taken a back.  Had he really just asked what she thought he had asked?  How had he known about the party when he was blind drunk. 

 

There was more venom in the King’s voice, now Kyra wasn’t around, venom Kassandra hadn’t known possible from the young King.  His lip turned up in an anger that was palpable.  It didn’t suit him.  He looked like his father.

 

‘With all due respect, my King, I am going to assume that is the wine talking.’

 

‘I apologise, I am being crass,’ he spoke magnanimously as if he were smiling, but no smile adorned his lips.  ‘But you did, yes?  You fucked her.’

 

Kassandra knew nothing but the truth was going to suffice here.  Not that he deserved the truth.  But he was King, and if he so wished, he could bring every Spartan in Athens down upon her, and probably every Athenian too.  He could just add it to the terms of the treaty.

 

The misthios bit the inside of her cheek.  Best case scenario here is he comes away thinking Kyra is just like any other woman to you.  She’s a good fuck and that’s it.  Don’t be a threat and keep her safe.  ‘You said it yourself, my King.  Famed lover’.

 

He laughed dryly as the misthios recounted his own words to him.  He appreciated her wit, despite what it had confirmed.  ‘Goodnight, misthios.  You will not be at the next party’.  And with that, he closed the door in Kassandra’s face. 

  

* * *

 

 

Kassandra knocked softly on the heavy wooden door, in case the room’s resident had already fallen asleep.

 

‘Kyra?’ she whispered, ‘Are you okay?’

 

The door inched open and tired dark eyes stared back at her.  ‘I’m fine,’ Kyra reassured her, ‘I am not unaccustomed to unwanted advances.’ To Kassandra’s surprise, the Archon moved aside to allow Kassandra into her bedroom. 

 

‘If I remember correctly, I was quite forward.’  Kassandra said, sheepishly, as she hung just inside the doorway.

 

‘You were not unwanted,’ Kyra responded, matter-of-factly, as she padded across to her bed and began removing her chiton. 

 

‘Kyra,…I need to apo-’

 

She glanced back over her shoulder and met Kassandra’s eyes.  ‘Goodnight Kassandra.’  Her words were final.  Their conversations were over, for that night at least.   But Kassandra was hopeful.  Hopeful for what?  She wouldn’t allow herself to think it. 

 

But they’d proven that evening that they could co-exist, however superficially.  They’d shared stories, they’d laughed, they’d conspired, and they’d protected each other too.

 

Kassandra nodded and began to back out of the doorway.  Just as she was about to pull the door to, she paused.  ‘I will stay outside.  Just until he’s asleep.’

 

‘Thank you’.  Kyra spoke, earnestly, and smiled a small and grateful smile whilst sinking into her bedsheets.  

 

Once Kassandra was outside, she found a wicker chair from further down the corridor and placed it just outside Kyra’s doorway.  Settling into it she smiled to herself.  What a mess the evening had been.  The wine, the inquisition.  But it had all been worth it the moment Kyra had bid her goodnight, as she’d heard her name on Kyra’s lips once more.  It was the first she’d heard it since leaving Mykonos, and it filled her with hope. She knew it was naïve, she knew foolish, but she also knew that when it came to Kyra, she really didn’t care.

 

Kassandra awoke.  The Villa was still, and the corridor was dark. She glanced down the hallway and noticed the morning twilight was starting spill into the courtyard where they had spent much of their evening.  The birdsong had begun but the day was still cool.  Kassandra twisted in her seat, untucking her knees from under her chin.  Joints cracked and muscles moaned.  It was only then did the misthios realise she had been delicately wrapped in a blue woven blanket to.  A blanket she’d seen just a few hours earlier, from the end of Kyra’s bed.  Maybe Kassandra wasn’t so foolish as to hope after all. 

 

 


End file.
